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«• 

















































































































WILLIAM WINSTON 


BY 

JULIA WILLIAMS SHEEHY 

*» 



BROADWAY PUBLISHING COMPANY 

835 Broadway, New York 




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Copyright, 1913, 

BY 

Julia W. Sheehy. 


^4// Rights Reserved . 




©Cl, A358589 V 

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Dedicated to 
P. W. S . 

L. A. S. S. 
A. R. S. 

L. H. S. 


















♦ 


% 






















CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. — The Rescue 1 

II.— The Call 9 

III. — A Year Later 18 

IV. — Greeting of Old Friends ... 23 

V. — In Old Virginia 31 

VI. — Defending the Capitol * 41 

VII. — The Boat Was Upturned 48 

VIII.— William’s Hero 50 

IX. — On Fatigue Duty 56 

X. — Handsome Old Shep 57 

XI. — Nursing His Friend 61 

XII. — A Surprise 63 

XIII. — The Mystery Was Solved 71 

XIV. — The Day’s March 72 

XV. — The First of July 78 

XVI. — William’s First Battle 83 

XVII.— The Third Day 87 

XVIII.— A Furlough 91 

XIX. — Capturing a Flag 97 

XX. — On Picket 100 

XXI. — Five Days Without Food 103 

XXII. — Guarding the Road 107 

XXIII.— Lost Ill 

XXIV.— A Wounded Boy 113 

XXV. — A Desperate Chance 115 

XXVI. — They Meet Between the Lines 117 

XXVII.— Between Two Fires 122 


XXVIII.— B revetted Second Lieutenant .............. 125 


l 


11 


CONTENTS — {Continued) 


Chapter Page 

XXIX.— A Great Joy 128 

XXX.— In Great Peril 132 

XXXI. — In These Ranks Were No Foes 135 

XXXII. — With the Army of the Shenandoah 137 

XXXIII. — Passing Through the Enemy’s Lines.... 147 

XXXIV. — Do We Meet as Friends or Foes? 155 

XXXV.— As Special Aide 164 

XXXVI. — He Waited and Listened in Vain 174 

XXXVII. — In Winter Quarters 179 

XXXVIII.— Where Have I Seen that Face Before?.. 188 
XXXIX. — The Prisoner’s Mental Anguish and Dreams 190 

XL. — A Familiar Voice 196 

XLI. — We’ll Have Half a Dozen Prisoners 204 

XLII. — A Strange Meeting 205 

XLIII. — Ordered to Hasten to the Front. 209 

XLIV. — In the First Line 210 

XLV. — The Relentless Pursuit 215 

XLVI. — An Invitation 217 

XLVII. — A Thunderbolt From a Clear Sky 220 

XLVIII. — A Visit 222 

XLIX. — She Found Her 227 

L. — In the Rockies .. 231 


Courage and patriotism are qualities that appeal 
to all, old and young alike; as they are essential 
characteristics of the ideal citizen. 















William Winston 


CHAPTER I. 

THE RESCUE. 

On an early summer afternoon Jack came to where 
the branch roads met. Leaning against a blasted oak, 
he wondered why the others had not arrived. At 
that moment he saw a small boy running toward him 
along the dusty road. 

“Oh, Jack,” the lad panted as he came near, “Henry 
Lacey has come back from the war. He was wounded. 
I saw him when he came home.” 

“I guess you’re not the only one who saw Henry ; 
I saw him. He told me all about it, and his arm is 
almost well.” Jack then assumed a very superior air, 
as he buried one foot in the soft white sand. 

“Where is your sister Nell and the rest of the 
crowd that was going to the lake?” 

“Oh, they’re so slow,” said the little fellow warmly, 
peering into the distance of the long, hot road; “I’m 
a long way ahead of them, and they started before I 
did. Jennie and Nell were so excited about Henry be- 
ing wounded. Wish I were big enough to go to the 
war. It must be glorious to fight for our country 
and the grand old flag.” 

Jack promptly assumed a heavy dignity. “Such a 
baby as you talking about going to war,” he retorted. 
“Even if you were old enough to go as a drummer 

1 


2 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


boy, you’d run at the first sound of the roar and boom 
of the cannons.” He straightened his legs, thrust his 
hands into his breeches pockets and stood up at his 
full height. 

“You’d just run and hide,” he repeated tauntingly. 

The little boy flashed an indignant defiance with a 
pair of keen and expressive gray eyes, as he threw 
Jack a scornful reply. 

“Guess I wouldn’t run. Bet you’d be too scared 
to run,” he rejoined stoutly. 

Then as Jack looked down at him from his superior 
height, the little fellow’s defiance waned somewhat. 
He straightened up and saw that he hardly reached 
to Jack’s shoulder. 

“You’ll have to grow some, Mr. William Winston,” 
Jack taunted, with all the scorn and superiority the 
older boy always assumed toward the smaller one. 

At this William flushed indignantly. If he was 
small for his years, he was not lacking in courage, 
and he resolved in his own mind to prove to Mr. 
Jack, when an opportunity should present itself, that 
he was not a coward. 

He sat down in the tall grass that grew by the 
roadside. There was a determined look on his flushed 
face, as he gazed at the rough gray stone wall which 
skirted a field of ripening grain. In the pasture, 
where the long grass was strewn with wild flowers, 
cattle were grazing beside a little stream that ran 
down to the lake. A north wind was blowing freshly 
yet softly down the lake and dropping suddenly against 
the sunny mountains in the distance. The afternoon 
sun was burning on the long dusty road, on the mist 
of tender green woods and the fields. 

Just then the crowd appeared down near the lake; 
they had taken the other road in order to call and 
inquire about Henry, who had joined them. 

The two boys ran down the road to meet them. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


3 


When they reached the lake, Fred and Henry took 
possession of the large boat and invited the girls to 
go with them across to the island where a party of 
their friends were having a picnic. 

“Oh, let me go with you,” pleaded William. “I can 
help row; Henry can’t row with his arm in a sling. 
He promised to tell me all about the war. Please 
let me go.” 

“Some other time, William,” said Henry, “I’ll tell 
you my whole experience.” 

“William, you always want to go with boys who 
are much older than you are,” remonstrated his sis- 
ter Nell. As they left the shore, she called back, “Be 
a good boy, dear. Go in the other boat and don’t 
get into mischief.” 

Gayly waving a farewell to those who were left 
on the shore, she sat there, a spirited little figure, 
her hair gleaming gold in the sunshine, and throwing 
a halo about her dainty head. When she smiled, and 
she smiled now saucily enough, her eyes had a trick 
of narrowing until they became mere beams of light 
between her lashes. Her eyes would smile, though 
her lips were perfectly prim. 

Fred pulled at the oars with a steady, even stroke, 
gradually widening the distance between them and 
the shore. He was bright and boyish looking, with 
a frank, open face, and his curling flaxen hair seemed 
almost white. 

“What a lot of boats there are out this afternoon,” 
Jennie exclaimed. “How lively the music sounds in 
the distance.” She leaned over the edge of the boat, 
trailing her little white hand through the water, and 
listening dreamily. She seemed a fragile little creat- 
ure, colored like a flower, and her smooth brown hair 
hung in silken braids to her sash. 

Henry, sitting in the opposite end of the boat, gaz- 
ing at the mountains, and feeling the quiet peace of 


4 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


the scene, glanced down suddenly at his bandaged 
arm, and was reminded vividly of another scene far 
away — of terrible strife and the scream of cannon 
balls, mingled with the fearful cries of wounded and 
dying. 

But fitting his mood to the occasion, he said lightly, 
“Fred, it's hardly fair for you to do all the rowing 
in this hot sun.” 

Fred laughed merrily, “This is great sport.” 

The boat skimmed lightly over the broad bosom 
of the lake; the sound of the music still floated with 
thrilling sweetness upon the wind. As they listened, 
the excitement of an exulting joy seemed to take pos- 
session of them. Perhaps it was the influence of the 
scene and the music, or a vision of the future, brightly 
colored by their own imaginations. 

The four small boys stood watching the boat as it 
glided out over the smooth waters of Lake Champlain. 
The sound of sweet melody and gay laughter float- 
ing on the wind reached their ears also, and as they 
listened, they joined in the refrain, beating time with 
their feet. 

“Oh, say, let’s not stand ’round here all day,” said 
Jack Lloyd. “What shall we do for a change? I’m 
tired of going fishing every day. Don’t you think it 
would be fun to get some flags and decorate and 
play we’re going to war?” 

“Oh, I have some flags,” shouted William. 

They all agreed to the suggestion and eagerly set 
to work getting the boat ready. In a very few minutes 
all was finished, but as they were going to launch the 
boat William suddenly cried out, “Ted Sutton, what 
do you mean by putting your old foreign flag up there 
to wave above Old Glory? Don’t you know that the 
Stars and Stripes should be at the top of the mast?” 

“We’re only playing,” said Ted indifferently. 

“Well, I guess we’ll change it even if we are only 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


5 

playing. I’m not going to see anything over our 
flag.” And William tore down Ted’s flag without 
further ado. Whereupon Mr. Ted flew into a rage and 
struck William in the face, almost sending him over 
into the lake. 

White with rage, he recovered his balance, rolled 
up his sleeves, and rushed at his assailant, utterly re- 
gardless of the fact that Ted was almost twice his 
size. Jack jumped in between them and told Ted 
he ought to be ashamed of himself to strike a boy so 
much smaller than he. 

Peace was declared immediately after Ted had apol- 
ogized, and the boys finally launched their boat and 
started out for an afternoon of pleasure. Around the 
shores of the lake, the pasture and forest spread their 
dazzling green to the sun, which was drawing across 
the leaves the first network of gold. The emerald of 
the grass was in itself refreshing to the very spring 
of life. 

“This is great,” said William as he leaned back 
in the boat and trailed his fingers in the waters of 
Champlain, gazing at the reflection of the surround- 
ing scene, encalmed in the deep bosom of the lake. 

“There comes the steamboat from Alberg Springs. 
It will only have time to pass the drawbridge be- 
fore the passenger comes over the Vermont Central. 
See, there it comes now,” said Jack, and the boys 
watched the boat pass and the drawbridge drop 
quickly into place, ready for the train that came speed- 
ing along in the distance over the long trestle built 
out over the lake. 

“It would be a dangerous trip to cross over to the 
Springs on the railroad track,” said Jack as they came 
near the drawbridge. “Do you see how the beams 
slope down on either side from the rails on the 
bridge?” 


6 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


bridge, and then get down and coon it across,” sug- 
gested William. 

“Bet you couldn’t do it. Dare you to try,” said Roy 
Baker. 

“All right, sir; I’ll go if you will,” replied William. 
“Row us back, boys, where we can get on the track.” 

Jack assumed an exceedingly authoritative air. 
“What contrary spirit has taken possession of you 
boys, anyway? We’ll not do anything of the kind. 
I think we’d better go fishing to keep you boys out of 
mischief.” 

“Hurrah,” shouted Ted as he quickened his strokes, 
and swung the boat around in the direction of his 
favorite spot for fishing. 

The Adirondacks and Green Mountains, in stately 
and noble lines, marshalled themselves on either side 
along the approaches to the lake, bearing aloft, as 
though on the pillars of some majestic gateway, the 
great curtain of dazzling cloud, which on a sunny 
day hangs over the lake. A glorious scene interposed 
between the mountains and towns along the shores. 

Late in the afternoon the boys were leisurely wend- 
ing their way toward home, exchanging wonderful 
tales about the “fish that got away.” They stopped 
to gather some green apples that had fallen from a 
stray apple tree. To the left of them, at the place 
where the crossroads met, stood the blasted oak where 
they had met in the morning. Beyond the tree and 
the long naked shadow it cast across the road ran 
a footpath, which led out to the railroad track. 

“I’m going to see if Nell and the others are coming 
yet,” said William, as he ran down the path, and then 
walked slowly down the track toward the lake. 

Turning in the other direction, Jack started home- 
ward, anxious to get his fish ready for supper. He 
called back over his shoulder, “You youngsters had 


WILLIAM WINSTON ; 

better come home. If you go out on the track, you’ll 
catch it.” 

Roy had slipped along after William. Now was 
their chance to cross the drawbridge. As he overtook 
William he hopped along on one foot and surveyed 
the other lad with a sidelong glance and a mischiev- 
ous grin. “Bet you’re afraid to cross the drawbridge,” 
he said at last. 

“Bet your life I’m not,” was the prompt reply. “I’ll 
go right now if you do.” Both boys broke into a 
run, each anxious to prove to the other how very 
brave he was. When they reached the point where 
there were no more ties to walk on, they stopped a 
few seconds to rest. As they stood there, each busy 
with his own thoughts, Roy glanced toward William 
for some sign of fear. He almost hoped that the lad 
would back out, for it looked a long ways to crawl 
on their hands and knees, and with very little to hold 
on to. But he was doomed to disappointment ; at that 
moment William got down and started on the perilous 
adventure, so perforce Mr. Roy must follow. But 
he allowed himself so long a breathing spell that Will- 
iam called back over his shoulder, “Come on, Mr. 
Fraidy Cat. You can’t back out after daring me.” 

Before them stretched the cold, bare iron rails, the 
touch of which seemed to send cold chills up and down 
William’s spine. But on he went, suspended as it 
were in midair. Above, the skies were illumined with 
the brilliant lights of the setting sun. The shore in 
the distance, now darkened by shadows that bore no 
likeness to the objects from which they borrowed 
shape, seemed to recede. 

The wind, chilled by oncoming night, blew on his 
flesh, and he shivered as he looked down at the still 
water beneath. 

“It must be a mile to the other side,” he muttered 
as he peered into the gathering gloom ahead. Sud- 


8 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


denly his heart gave a terror-stricken leap, and every 
hair on his head seemed to rise slowly upward, till 
it stood erect. Along the rails there came to him 
the unmistakable sound of an approaching train, and 
the long beam of the headlight fell across the track. 

He called to Roy to hurry, and in less than a second, 
but it seemed an eternity, he had reached the end and 
climbed down, wrapping his legs around the spiling 
that supported the beams. Looking back, he saw that 
Roy could not possibly reach the end in time. Roy 
saw the danger at the same instant, and with a terror- 
stricken cry dived headlong into the lake. 

William held his breath and gazed intently down 
where his companion had disappeared. 

A head bobbed for a moment above the surface of 
the water, and then sank. Fearing that all was not 
well, the lad slid quickly down into the water and 
swam over to the spot where he had last seen his 
friend. Just then the dark curls came into view again, 
and William seized them desperately. With a tre- 
mendous effort he got the bigger boy’s head above 
the water and started out bravely on the heartbreak- 
ing task of supporting one bigger than himself and 
swimming with one arm. 

At last, when his strength was about gone, he heard 
voices quite near him, and then a man’s voice ex- 
claimed, “I swan, I believe there’s someone out there 
near the drawbridge.” 

Turning the boat in that direction, Fred and Henry 
arrived just in time to drag the little lad and his 
heavy burden into the boat. Jack and Ted, rowing 
with might and main, pulled alongside, inquiring anx- 
iously what had happened. 

Nell and Jennie set to work to resuscitate Roy, 
while the boys pulled toward shore. In a few minutes 
he opened his eyes. 

“Gee, but I was scared when I saw that train com- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


9 

fog/’ he gasped. “I stopped breathing until I struck 
the water, and then I strangled. That was the last I 
remember. Where is William?” “He’s all right,” 
said Fred. “If it wasn’t for him you’d be at the 
bottom of the lake now.” 

Nell put her arm around her brother and drew him 
close, shuddering at the thought of what might have 
happened to him. 

“William, why did you go out there? You might 
have been killed.” 

“Well, he dared me to, and said I was afraid,” said 
William defiantly, as though that were the limit of all 
endurance. 

“What a temper you have, dear. It will surely bring 
you to grief sometime if you don’t learn to control it. 
If Mamma knew of this, she would never allow you 
to come to the lake again.” 

At this suggestion the boy seemed quite subdued. 
He loved that lake more than he could tell, and life 
would be quite unendurable without boating, fishing 
and swimming. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE CALL. 

The Maples was one of those beautiful estates 
which have their luxuries of space, sunshine, shady 
trees and gardens. At least ten acres, surrounding the 
house, were laid out in lawns, attractive clumps of 
shrubbery and orchards. A portion of the land reached 
back into a maple and oak grove, or woodland, that 
extended down to the lake, which spread its beautiful 
expanse of rippling water far out into the glowing 
sunshine. 

Colonel Winston stood upon the portico behind the 
massive columns looking complacently over the fair 


IO 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


stretch of fields and meadows, upon which his fore- 
fathers had sown and harvested for generations. His 
eyes wandered leisurely across the green strip of grass 
land, to the wheat field where the harvest hands were 
busy at work. The outlying meadows seemed to re- 
flect his gaze with a smile as beneficent as his own. 
He had cast his bread upon the soil, and it had re- 
turned to him threefold. 

As he stood there, a tall and imposing figure, hold- 
ing his broad slouch hat in his smooth white hand, 
he presented something of the genial aspect of the 
country, and the light that touched the pleasant hills 
and valleys seemed aglow in his clear gray eyes and 
comely features. And he looked but what he was, 
a bland and generous gentleman, whose heart was 
ever open with sympathy, and who was ever ready 
to extend aid generously when needed. 

A bird was singing in one of the maples near at 
hand, and he waited with upraised head for the exul- 
tant hymn to end; then stooped beside a column to 
inhale the fragrance of the roses, before he went into 
the wide hall, where his wife was seated at her work- 
table. 

From the rear door, which stood open until frost, 
a glow of sunshine entered, brightening the walls 
with their rows of antlers and gunracks, and rippling 
over the well waxed floor. A faint sweetness was 
in the air from the arbor, which led into the box- 
bordered walks of the garden. 

Handing up his hat, he began at once with the daily 
news of the farm. “I hope they'll get through with 
that wheat field to-day. The crop is not very good. 
It hardly seems to pay to try to raise wheat. The 
men are so slow, if I’m not right there looking after 
them all the time. They should be working at the 
hay right now.” 

“I think it is always that way,” returned his wife, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


IT 

looking up at him with tender solicitude. “I’m afraid 
you’re not so well, dear. My brother Tom O’Connor 
thinks you could be cured if you would consult the 
noted specialist in London. I hope you will be able 
to get away soon. Tom and Ann are anxious for 
us to come on the next steamer and bring Nell and 
William with us, so they can go to school while you 
are taking your treatments. It will likely be necessary 
to stay at least six or eight months. 

“They would like to keep William, but I have no 
idea he would stay without Nell. The offer to make 
him their heir if he would stay as their son would 
not tempt him, even if we would consent to such an 
arrangement. ,, 

“He certainly is an independent lad,” the Colonel 
remarked, “but I fear, my dear, that you are a little 
too severe with him. I want my son to be brave and 
manly, with sufficient spirit to defend himself. If you 
punish him every time anyone makes a complaint, he 
will be afraid to take his own part, and I don’t want 
him imposed upon.” 

“I thought the lad rather aggressive. But perhaps 
I have been a little strict since your illness,” said 
Mrs. Winston, as she cut the thread and held up her 
work for her husband’s inspection. “I believe that 
is the prettiest piece of embroidery I’ve made yet. 
How do you like this new stitch?” 

“Exquisite,” exclaimed her husband, as he took the 
dainty linen in his hand. “Simply exquisite, my love. 
There isn’t a woman in the country who can do such 
beautiful needlework. Neither has anyone in the 
world a lovelier wife than I.” 

His wife blushed and looked up at him, the color 
rising to her beautiful brow and giving a youthful 
radiance to her face. 

“I fear that you are a partial judge on that point, 
dear,” she rejoined with a touch of the coquetry for 


12 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


which she had been noted as a girl. “But I can return 
the compliment. No one has a handsomer husband 
than I have.” Smiling back at him, she went with a 
stately step up the broad staircase, her white hand 
flitting over the carved oak balustrade. 

As he looked after her his face clouded, and a vague 
fear clutched at his heart. The cares she met with 
such serenity had been too heavy for her strength. 
They were driving the bloom from her cheeks, and 
the luster from her eyes. And though she had not 
faltered at her task, she had drooped daily and grown 
older than her years since the fateful day when he 
was injured in the collision. 

As the Colonel sat gazing with unseeing eyes 
through the sunny window, suddenly a never-to-be- 
forgotten scene sprang vividly before his eyes. He 
had been one of the first to respond to the call of 
the great President for men to preserve their coun- 
try and the greatest flag on earth. He had been chosen 
Colonel by ballot, and he could see again the lines 
of his men as they drilled daily, waiting for the final 
order to go to the front. He could hear again the 
great cheer when the order was finally read. The 
cheers were loud and heartfelt, but through it all 
could be heard the sobs and prayers of loved ones 
who must be left behind, perhaps forever. Life is 
a mixture of emotions; a jumble of joy and sorrow, 
of reverence and mirth. 

The Colonel sighed deeply as he recalled that train 
speeding along filled with men eager for the untried, 
the unforeseen. He had sat there wondering if his 
wife would be at the next station where the train 
would stop for one short hour. He felt that she was 
surely waiting, and though her heart were breaking, 
she would bravely urge him on, and though he went 
smiling, his heart would be with her. 

He heard again the terrific crash, when the vision 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


13 

of a beautiful face came to him, and his soul called 
out to her as it seemed to him that this must be 
the end. Then all was darkness and oblivion. 

Mrs. Winston had been sitting in the room at the 
hotel waiting for William, and as he entered the 
room to see if she was ready to start, she sprang 
to her feet with an agonized cry, “Oh, my God, your 
father has been killed/’ 

Together they rushed to the street and, jumping 
into a cab, gave the order, “Drive quickly to the 
depot.” Upon reaching there, they found Colonel 
Winston unconscious. He had been the only one 
badly injured in the collision, which had occurred a 
few moments before. 

The attending physicians were in doubt, as the 
Colonel remained unconscious, but suddenly he opened 
his eyes and whispered, “My love, you came. Did 
you hear me call you?” 

Bending close to catch the words, his wife had re- 
plied tenderly, “Yes, dear, I heard you call, and knew 
that you were in danger.” 

At that moment the train had passed on with the 
blue-clad men of his company, and he had turned 
away his face, with a bitterness that almost choked 
him. So this was the end of his dream — his dream 
of victories and fame, gloriously won on the battle- 
field. 

Divining his thoughts, his wife had said in a cheer- 
ful tone, “You will soon be strong and well again, 
dear, and can join your company in a few weeks. 
They are waiting to take us home now.” 

In a few weeks he seemed to be almost recovered, 
but did not regain his strength, although he looked 
well. There was some internal injury, which baffled 
the skill of the physician. 

When this fact was disclosed, Mrs. Winston’s cour- 
age almost failed her. When she was alone, with 


14 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


no watchful eye to observe, the lines in her face deep- 
ened, and the anxiety in her heart seemed more than 
she could bear. 

After reading her brother’s letter again, it gave her 
hope, and she resolved that they would start for Lon- 
don just as soon as she could pack. She went softly 
into the room where her husband sat, lost in his day- 
dream. She stood watching him for a moment, with 
the glorified look she always had on her face when 
she was with him. 

“Dearest,” he roused himself with a start, “dear- 
est,” she repeated, “do you think you would be able 
to start for London the first of next week?” 

“Why, yes, I will be able, but wouldn’t it tire you 
too much to get ready so soon? I’m anxious to go, 
because I think the change will be good for you and 
the children.” 

Delighted that a long-cherished hope was to be 
realized so soon, Mrs. Winston called Jenson, the 
housekeeper, and they set to work in real earnest. 
In a few days all was in readiness for the long jour- 
ney. 

“Were it not for the hope that my husband will 
be cured, I should feel very selfish to go away at a 
time when there are so many hearts being crushed 
with terrible bereavement,” Mrs. Winston remarked to 
Jenson, as she prepared several packages of deli- 
cacies and a large bunch of beautiful roses to take 
to the sick in the village. 

As Mrs. Winston went down the long lane of lilac 
bushes, through the gate, and entered the restful 
shade of the maple grove, she recalled the many 
thoughtful acts of kindness extended to her during 
her husband’s illness, and her heart went out in sym- 
pathy for the countless numbers on the ocean of the 
great world, who must suffer the stern trials of life. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


15 

without a word of sympathy to cheer, or one hand 
extended to help. 

Coming to a gray stone wall, above which rose 
the arches of the elms, and the waving canopy of 
the maples, Mrs. Winston could see between the 
tall trunks a fair piece of upland rising to a green 
ridge, on the top of which stood Mrs. Lacey’s home, 
distinct against a softly reflected eastern light. 

Mrs. Lacey, sitting on the broad veranda, saw Mrs. 
Winston coming up the road, and, dropping her work 
into the basket standing near her chair, she walked 
across the grass and met her friend at the gate, 
where the large rosebushes stood in their elegant 
dignity of full red bloom. 

They gave each other the quick grasp of friendly 
greeting and passed together up to the pleasant seats 
beside the door. 

“I mustn’t stay long, dear. There are so many 
places I want to go, and you know we start early to- 
morrow. How is Henry?” 

Quick tears filled Mrs. Lacey’s eyes, but she bravely 
held them back as she answered: “His arm is very 
much better, and he left this morning to join his com- 
pany at the front.” 

“You are a brave woman,” said Mrs. Winston, as 
she kissed her friend good-bye. “May God protect 
your boy, and bring him back safe.” She turned 
away quickly to hide her own tears. As she hurried 
on, she felt in her heart that her husband would rejoin 
his company as soon as he regained his strength. 

It was a beautiful summer evening. The maples 
lifted their great heads, transparent with mellow ra- 
diance, and cast long dense shadows along the road 
that stretched away from just beyond the village to 
the hills, softly visible in the dim, hazy blue of the 
distance. 

The sun was setting in a flood of crimson glory as 


i6 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


Mrs. Winston was nearing home. She had reached 
the fork, when she saw Nell and William coming up 
the road from the lake. She waited for them, and 
noticed, as they drew near, that William’s eyes were 
red. 

“Why, son, what has happened?” 

“Oh, mamma, Henry Lacey has gone, and he prom- 
ised to tell me all about the war before we left for 
London. I wish I could go to the war instead of old 
London, anyway.” 

His mother tenderly brushed back the damp curls 
from his flushed face. “It requires a great deal of 
courage to face the enemy in battle.” But in her 
heart she felt that he was too young to realize that 
or the anguish that mothers felt ; if he were a few 
years older, she knew that she would have to bid 
him go with her blessing. 

The dark had almost fallen as they hurried on 
through the maple grove, and as they passed through 
the gate they saw the Colonel on the porch looking 
for them. 

That night after supper a chapter from the Bible 
was read, and the Colonel led in prayer, as was his 
custom. The children said good-night earlier than 
usual and went upstairs to get a long night’s rest 
before their journey. 

The mother and father sat near the open door, in- 
haling the air, heavy with the fragrance of many flow- 
ers. They planned for their children’s future, as is 
the way of parents, little realizing how seldom those 
plans are consummated. As Mrs. Winston rocked 
gently, in her rosewood chair, her shadow flitted to 
and fro on the floor; the delicate lace on her belle 
sleeve hung over the carved arm of the rocker, and 
the fingers of her fragile white hand played silently on 
the polished wood. 

“I think, dear, that if William were older he would 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


1 7 

represent our family in our country’s present struggle. 
He told me this afternoon that he wished he could 
go to the war, and he was quite wrought up because 
Henry Lacey had gone away without telling him all 
of his war experiences.” 

Then she told the Colonel all about her afternoon, 
and how she had heard in the village the story of what 
their son had done in defense of the flag, and his 
risking his own life to save Roy Baker. 

Then, as her love for their son and for him illu- 
mined her face and gave her wondrous beauty, he 
bent near and kissed her tenderly, for they were lovers 
for all time. “My dear one,” and his voice thrilled 
with pride and emotion, “I was wrong in saying that 
our boy would be afraid to take his own part.” 

Meanwhile, visions of splendor held sway in Nell’s 
busy thoughts as she anticipated most joyfully her 
visit to her uncle and aunt at Stewart Court. Not 
so with William. There was not a tree or shrub 
at the Maples that he did not know and love. The 
beautiful grove; the lake where he had rowed and 
fished and gone swimming so many times ; the crab- 
apple trees, blossoming in the spring; the blasted oak 
which stood where the crossroads met, and was the 
rendezvous before starting on a picnic or excursion of 
any kind — all these beautiful things seemed a part of 
himself, and the thought of crowded London streets 
did not appeal to him. 

He thought of the impulse that always came to him 
in the early spring, when the first birds were building 
in the trees, and the air was sweet with the smell 
of new turned earth, to get out into the open, to 
walk alone in the woods and watch the swallows 
flying from the south. 

Then from the past his dreams went groping out 
into the future. Scattered visions came drifting 
through his mind of himself in the thrilling adventures 


i8 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


of war, always of war. Then he saw himself on the 
bosom of a great lake, borne on while he stretched 
his hands to grasp a flag that was floating above the 
Stars and Stripes. A great anger seemed to fill his 
soul at the sight of that flag; he was striving desper- 
ately to reach it. He heard a call, but could not an- 
swer; he seemed to be sinking, sinking beneath the 
water, when he felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder 
and heard her sweet voice, “Come, William, it’s time 
to get up. We musn’t be late in starting.’ , 


CHAPTER III. 

A YEAR LATER. 

The sky was an arch of bluest turquoise, and the 
ocean a limitless expanse of ever-changing opal color- 
ing that flashed and glittered as the waves rolled in 
never-ending solemn music. The prow of the ship 
cut the sea into arches of dazzling foam and spray, 
leaving in its wake troughs and swells, sweeping grace- 
fully away into the distance. A refreshing breeze had 
at first considerably lulled and then died away to a 
dead calm. On the horizon there appeared a cloud 
bank, which to experienced eyes betokened a storm. 

As the setting sun dropped behind the western wall 
of the vast expanse of waters, the clouds appeared 
black and ominous, but the passengers were blissfully 
unconscious of any danger, especially the young boy, 
standing close to the rail, utterly fascinated by the 
scene. 

“We’ll reach port early to-morrow” ; the captain an- 
swered the query of a passenger, and then turned away 
to issue a few quick, decisive orders. There was an 
anxious pucker between his brows. 

Minute by minute the clouds in the west rose higher, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


19 

and the calm fell more deathlike. One by one the 
stars were blotted out, leaving a dense black curtain 
over the face of the deep. It was plain that there was 
to be a real storm at sea. Every soul beside the 
working crew was ordered below deck. 

Scarcely had the inky darkness dropped, shutting 
out sight of ship and sky and sea, when the storm 
burst in its full fury. The wind tore through the 
stacks and rigging with shrieks, weird and startling, 
followed by flashes that split the darkness with white 
gashes of flame and crash of thunder, that rolled and 
reverberated and reeled away over the churning sea 
with echoes indescribable. 

Save for the intermittent snatches of sea and sky, 
made visible by the lightning’s glare, all was the black- 
est darkness — all was deafening, confusing noises. 

Hiding behind a roll of cable, to evade the order to 
go below, and gain the opportunity to witness a storm 
at sea, the boy mentioned before was now holding 
on with all his might and main to keep from being 
dashed against the bulwarks. He had always imag- 
ined that the harder it would blow the better he would 
like it. The terror of this experience was a dear les- 
son. 

He could not go below now; everything was fas- 
tened down tight, and no human being was in sight. 
His arms were aching from the strain of holding on so 
desperately, as the ship tossed and reeled and groaned, 
and it seemed to him it would surely be crushed, so 
fiercely did the waters dash upon her. After an alarm- 
ing thunderburst, avalanches of spray were hurled 
over the bulwarks and the rain came down in sheets 
and torrents. 

The storm raged furiously, and a great wave that 
had rolled higher and higher came onward and struck 
with terrific force, and as the ship heaved and plunged 
downward as if ingeniously going to the bottom out 


20 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


of the way of the wind and the waves, the boy lost 
his hold on the cable. Reaching out wildly to grasp 
something to save himself, he caught hold of a human 
hand. Clinging tightly, and striving with the other 
hand to find something solid, he seemed to be going 
down, down, down, and the whole universe seemed 
to be swallowed up and engulfed in awful blackness. 

The storm went as suddenly as it came, and the ship 
slowed to a steady roll. Within five minutes after 
the last thunderbolt the wind lulled, and within ten 
the moon was capping the swells of the sea with scin- 
tillations of sparkling silver, and the waves rolled to 
and fro with an ordered mystery. 

On the deck, not far from the coil of cable, lay a 
young girl, drenched and limp. Suddenly she opened 
her eyes, and breathlessly gasped in a terrified voice, 
“Who are you? And how did you find me down here 
in the bottom of the sea ?” 

The boy continued rubbing the little cold hand as 
he replied, “We are on the ship; I caught your hand, 
and then got hold of this end of the cable, just in the 
nick of time to save us from being swept overboard 
by a great wave that struck and almost sunk the 
ship. I hid up here to see the storm, but I swan, it 
did seem as if we’d surely go to the bottom and 
be food for the whales. How did you get up here 
on deck? I thought all girls were afraid of storms.” 

The girl sat up and said in a very subdued voice, 
“That was awful; I reckon I will be afraid after this. 
Mamma has been very sick, and when she fell asleep I 
came up on deck to see the sunset, and must have 
fallen asleep. All at once it seemed that the world 
had come to an end, and I woke in the midst of that 
terrible storm. I must have been paralyzed with fear, 
for I couldn’t move or even call for help. The last 
thing I remember, we were going down, and I felt 
the waves rushing over me. Mamma would be so 


WILLIAM WINSTON 21 

frightened if she knew that I had been up here in that 
dreadful storm.” She paused a moment for breath, 
and shivered with the thought of her terrible danger. 
“I would have been swept away in all that horrible 
water if you hadn’t saved me.” 

The boy looked at her with an awkward, diffident 
little smile, “It was pure luck. I had lost hold of 
the cable and thought I was bound for kingdom come 
when I caught hold of your hand. Hpw I ever 
got hold of the end of the cable I couldn’t tell you, 
but I guess our guardian angels were pretty close. 
Don’t say anything to your mother about it if you can 
help it, and she won’t need to be frightened, now 
that it is all over.” 

“You saved my life, just the same, and some day 
I may be able to repay it. I reckon you’ll think I’m 
silly, but I have a feeling that some time or other I’ll 
be able to do almost as much for you.” 

She shuddered violently as the terror of the storm 
swept over her again. Calling a soft good-night, she 
hurried away. Her mother was still sleeping the 
sleep of utter exhaustion after her illness, and was 
entirely oblivious of the storm that had raged over 
them. The girl slipped quietly into her berth, where 
she dreamed of the storm and a boy who rescued 
her from the cold embrace of the waves. 

The boy stood still as the drenched little figure van- 
ished from his view. It was her voice that had im- 
pressed him most, for he had not been able to get a 
clear view of her face in the dim light. He went slowly 
below, and rolled into his berth, where he dreamed 
it all over again in a nervous and fitful slumber; but 
above all the din and turmoil of the storm a voice held 
sway, and seemed to lull even the sound of the crash- 
ing thunder. 

The boy was none other than William Winston. His 
parents had taken passage on this ship, and were 


22 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


going to leave Nell and William in London at their 
uncle’s home to attend school. Such a plan didn’t 
appeal to William at all. He was hungry for a sight 
of the Maples and the lake. So he slipped away early 
on the morning that his father and mother were to 
start and, going aboard, hid himself in their state- 
room. When they were well out, and there was no 
chance to send him back, he made his appearance on 
deck and sauntered around in search of them. Imag- 
ine his dismay when they could not be found. He 
rushed to the Captain and told him all his story, but 
Colonel and Mrs. Winston were not aboard; they had 
failed to come at the last minute. 

The morning after the storm dawned clear and beau- 
tiful. The blue waves, lapping softly along the side 
of the boat, gave no hint of the rage and turmoil of 
the night before. William was on deck early, as 
usual, just as if nothing out of the ordinary had oc- 
curred. As he stood there looking out over the smil- 
ing stretch of waters, suddenly to the right, in the 
distance, he saw the purple and brown rocks of the 
coast. A tremor ran through him. He was almost 
home. 

In a few hours they had reached the end of the 
voyage. 

Hurrying along in the midst of a laughing, chatter- 
ing throng, anxious to feel good American soil under 
his feet once more, William made his way down the 
gangplank across the pier, boarded the train and was 
speeding homeward, before he had time to think of 
his experience of the night before. He had not caught 
a glimpse of the little girl whom he had met in such 
a mysterious way. It was the memory of her voice 
more than the strange meeting that remained in his 
thoughts as he gazed at the familiar scenes of his 
beloved native land. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


23 


CHAPTER IV. 

GREETING OLD FRIENDS. 

“It is just a year to-day since the folks left, and 
what a long, lonely year it has been without the chil- 
dren,” thought Jenson, as she hurried around the 
kitchen preparing supper. She heard her husband 
come up the walk and carefully wipe his feet on the 
mat before he pushed open the door. 

“Just got a letter from the Colonel. They expect to 
be home next month, but the children are to stay with 
their aunt and uncle another year and go to school.” 

“You don’t tell me, and here I was thinkin’ how 
lonesome it’s been all year without the little rascals.” 

The man left the kitchen to wash up for supper, and 
Jenson stood shaking her head sadly at the idea of 
not seeing her beloved children for another year. The 
door opened softly, and a mischievous face peeped 
in ; then someone tiptoed across the floor, threw a 
pair of strong young arms around Jenson’s waist 
and cried, “My goodness, Jenson, but I’m hungry.” 

Poor Jenson dropped into a chair, trembling, and 
pulled the boy to her so she could get a good look at 
him. “William, my land to goodness, how you scared 
me. Where did you come from, and are you sure 
you aren’t a ghost? We just got a letter from your 
father to-day saying you were going to stay in Lon- 
don another year.” 

“I ran away. I wasn’t going to be left behind. 
Anyway, my uncle was going to punish me for dis- 
obeying him, and I didn’t think he had the right. 
Most of all, I was so homesick I simply couldn’t stand 
being there any longer. I hid in the cabin that father 
had reserved, but they didn’t come, and there’s no 
telling what has happened.” 

“Oh, I guess they were only delayed. I’m sure 


24 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


everything is all right. But they’ll be terribly worried 
about you, William. We’ll have to send word right 
away. Come, boy, eat your supper. I’ve got some 
of your favorite pie.” 

As soon as he had finished his supper William ran 
out into the yard. He felt as though he would like 
to hug everything he saw. There was a big lump in 
his throat that hurt, and a very suspicious mist over 
his eyes made things look dim. He walked slowly 
across the lawn, lingering a moment at every scrub 
and rose bush, as if to greet an old friend. Then he 
hurried through the orchard and maple grove, anxious 
for a look at the lake. He had pictured it so many 
times in his mind, and there it lay in the evening light 
serene and beautiful, with the eternal background of 
the distant mountains rising in stately grandeur, deep 
purple from the last rays of the sun. 

As he drew deep, grateful breaths of the pure air, 
he thought of the pale, starving little wretches, hud- 
dled together in the filth and squalor of the London 
tenements that he had seen when he accompanied 
his mother and aunt on their charitable expeditions 
with clothing and medicine. The poor, deformed lit- 
tle things looked as though they had never seen the 
sunshine nor had a single breath of pure air. From 
the bottom of his heart William pitied them, and how 
he had wished that he could take them to his beauti- 
ful home in the country, and just turn them loose 
in the green pastures and orchards. 

Children always made friends with him immedi- 
ately. He had been given the grace of a singularly 
attractive personality. He was of a fair complexion, 
with well shaped, regular features. But this charm 
was irrespective of these: his keen gray eyes, large 
and clear, gazed forth upon the world with a frank 
straightforwardness which proved the honest soul 
within. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


25 

The instinct of a child rarely fails, and this was 
why even the little street Arabs of the London slums 
would gather around the American boy, and listen 
eagerly to his beautiful stories of wide, green spaces, 
where trees and flowers grew, and where one might 
run all day without restriction if he so wished. 

No one could look at William and not know that 
he was a boy of sweet and fine honor. His aunt and 
uncle loved him devotedly, and were extremely anxious 
to adopt him legally and make him heir to all their 
large wealth. But his love for his parents and sister, 
his extreme patriotism, rather unusual in one so young, 
and his affection for the dear old home where he 
was born, proved too strong for the promise of his 
uncle’s wealth to make him give them all up. He 
had too manly and independent a nature to bind him- 
self to anyone, and was ambitious to make his own 
way and gain distinction through his personal efforts. 

Twilight was rapidly fading into night, and the 
outlines of the lake were blurred when he finally turned 
from the dear old scene that had held him entranced, 
as it were, for so many minutes. To the right he 
could hear the soft lapping of the little brook that 
ran down to the lake, and he thought of the many 
times he had slipped away with his fishing rod and a 
forbidden book tucked under his arm. He would 
tramp away through the woods and lie on the bank 
of the little stream in the shade of a big oak, his line 
trailing in the water; he would drink in the thrilling 
adventures of the tale, until a nibble at the line re- 
minded him that he was supposed to be fishing, when 
he would reluctantly leave his wonderful hero just 
long enough to land the little speckled trout. 

Completely lost in his day-dreaming, William was 
devoid of all sense of his environment; the air that 
blew down from the hills and touched his cheek so 
caressingly might have come from the desert or been 


26 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


freighted with the salt spray of the ocean. He was 
recalled by hearing Jenson’s voice at the gate, “Now, 
where do you suppose that boy is ? He must be dead 
tired after his long trip, and still he’s wandering 
around, nobody knows where.” 

Her husband’s voice answered her from the porch. 
“Never mind the lad. He was so homesick he didn’t 
know what to do with himself, and he’s just around 
making friends with the place again.” 

“Hello, Jenson; did you think I was lost? I’ve been 
down taking a look at the lake. I’m awfully sleepy, 
now that I have time to think about it. Guess I’ll 
go right upstairs. Good-night.” 

Once in his room, however, he sat down by the 
open window and leaned his head on his arm. A 
deep sense of loneliness came over him. It was not 
home without father and mother and Nell, and there 
was the haunting fear that something had gone wrong 
with his father, which caused them to stop at the 
last minute. 

i The vast influences of the night were around him, 
as from the deep places of the universe — the depth 
of gloom, the depth of silence. The window looked 
out over the garden, but in the darkness it had lost 
the semblance of earth and seemed instead but an 
enveloping cloud, in which he was the only breathing 
human life. The dark branches of the maple trees, 
waving to and fro, spoke of a deeper mystery in their 
mute witness to that breath from the unseen which 
moved them. 

The mystery of what the future held for him was 
part and parcel of his youthful questioning. The 
problem of his own life was what the hour held in its 
shifting hold for William. He longed to be a man, 
to solve the unknown, and to do things. Well, what 
should he do? He felt that he could put forth great 
effort and accomplish great things. But the veiled, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


27 


wavering outlines before him held no definite promise 
and seemed only to prefigure the uncertain boundaries 
of his future. 

He wished he might go to the war with his father, 
for he felt sure that the Colonel would join his com- 
rades fighting for the Union, far away in Virginia, 
just as soon as he returned, and if he were physically 
able. Then suddenly an unutterable longing to see 
his parents overwhelmed the lad, and he buried his 
face in his arms on the window ledge, with a choking 
desire to cry like the veriest girl. 

The sun was shining brightly when William hur- 
ried down to breakfast. He was late, and no one was 
in sight, for Jenson was busily engaged in doing up 
the morning work. He ate the dainty meal that had 
been set for him, and went out into the warm sun- 
shine on the east porch, where the plants and ferns 
looked fresh and lovely in the morning light. He 
lingered a moment, enjoying the fragrance of the 
flowers, and then strolled down to the maple grove, 
where each tree was gorgeous in its beauty of rich 
green foliage, and the golden treasure of summer life. 

As William walked leisurely through the cool shade 
he wondered where all the boys were, and if per- 
chance they were out on the lake at the favorite fish- 
ing place. When he came to the blasted oak at the 
crossroads, he stopped from force of habit, and then 
wondered why he did so, for there was 110 one 
to meet him this morning. There was a sharp bend 
in the road that led to the village, and as he stood 
there, uncertain which way to go, a familiar figure 
swung suddenly into view. It was Henry Lacey, and 
with a cry of pleasure William ran to meet him. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you, Henry. I was just 
thinking about you and wondering where you were.” 

Henry greeted his young friend warmly. When did 
you get back, and how is your father ?” 


28 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


William related his story very much as he had to 
Jenson, and when he had finished Henry cheered him 
by remarking that his father was probably well, but 
had been detained by business or perhaps by the dis- 
covery of the boy’s disappearance. 

“But how does it happen that you are here?” asked 
William, as they walked down toward the lake. 

“The time of my enlistment expired, and I came 
home with the intention of continuing my study of law ; 
but there has been another call for men, and I shall 
probably go back in a few days.” 

They launched a boat and rowed slowly out. Will- 
iam heaved a great sigh of delight. “Isn’t it glorious? 
I don’t believe there is anything in the whole world 
more beautiful than old Champlain. After crowded, 
smoky, foggy London I can’t get enough of this air 
into my lungs. The only time I really enjoyed myself 
while we were gone was when we visited my uncle’s 
beautiful old estate in Ireland. It is beautiful there, 
but not so fine as this.” 

“What a rampant little American you are, anyway,” 
said Henry, with a smile. 

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that Nell won the 
brush in the fox hunt. My goodness, but she was 
proud of herself. It was the first time she had ever 
ridden to hounds, and Uncle thought she was pretty 
fine himself.” 

They rested their oars and floated slowly over the 
smooth water, where hardly a ripple disturbed the 
reflections on the glassy surface. “You never could 
guess who was proudest of all when Nell won the 
brush,” William continued, after a moment’s pause. 

“Fred Allen, I guess,” answered Henry. “Jennie 
wrote me that Fred left for London some time ago.” 

“Yes, he came very shortly after we arrived. He 
was appointed attache to the United States Minister’s 
office recently.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


29 


“You must have been very glad to see him.’ , 

“Nell was,” answered William, with a frank little 
grimace, “but you know I never did like Fred so ter- 
ribly well. Jealous, I guess. I’d throw rocks at him 
when Nell would walk to school with him instead of 
going with me. Nell would always tell on me and 
get me punished if I did anything to the wonderful 
Fred, and she would stand and look on as if she en- 
joyed it, while at other times she would cry her eyes 
out if mother punished me for the least thing.” 

Henry laughed heartily. “When you are a little 
older and like to walk with some other boy’s sister, 
you will understand why she would be very angry if 
her brother dared to throw rocks at you. 

“Nell is wild about London. She finishes school this 
year, and next season Aunt Ann is going to have her 
presented at court.” 

They noticed that the boat was drifting out toward 
the center of the lake; the scene in which the bridge 
had figured so prominently the previous year was vivid 
before their minds. Neither spoke of it, however. 

“I haven’t told you about the terrible storm we had 
the last night out. It was a very sudden squawl, and 
though it didn’t last very long it was terrible. I al- 
ways imagined that the harder it blew on the ocean, 
the better I would like it. You can imagine how 
disappointed I was when we had almost reached our 
destination and all was perfectly calm. Late in 
the evening of the day before we landed signs that 
were very plain to a seaman began to appear, and 
everybody was ordered below deck. I hid behind a 
huge coil of cable, and I had the pleasure, mingled 
with a great deal of terror, of being in the midst of 
a full-fledged storm on the ocean.” 

William described the whole scene and his sensa- 
tions when he thought that he was surely going to 
visit Davey Jones’ locker. 


30 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


“I wonder what you’ll get into next?” said Henry. 
“Your description was very vivid. It made me feel as 
though I were there, too. It reminded me a little of 
the awful confusion and terror of battle.” 

“Please tell me something about it, Henry. You 
know you never did get around to telling me all those 
stories you had promised. What a lot of courage it 
must take to march forward in the face of shot and 
shell.” 

Henry gazed into the distance with unseeing eyes. 
“Every battle that I have been in, we had to 
attack the enemy when they were safely hidden be- 
hind breastworks and forts. Still our men went coolly 
forward in the face of a terrible fire, poured into their 
lines by an invisible foe. On they went, with the firm 
determination to overcome every obstacle. Sometimes 
two and three lines of breastworks had to be torn 
down before we could get at the enemy to fight on 
an equal footing. 

“Every man in our army is longing for the oppor- 
tunity to meet the enemy face to face, when the met- 
tle of both sides can be truly tested.” 

The sun was high and hot. “It must be noon, Will- 
iam. We’ve had a very interesting morning and 
had better turn toward shore.” 

They rowed on rapidly and in silence, each busy 
with his own thoughts. They fastened their boat and 
hurried up the path, When they reached the cross- 
roads, William looked at Henry hesitatingly for a 
moment, then said, “I’d like to go with you to see the 
men enlist.” 

“Why, certainly. Call for me to-morrow morning.” 

They waved good-bye as each hurried home along a 
different road. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


CHAPTER V. 

IN OLD VIRGINIA. 

It was early spring, and a cool rain was falling 
on the black mud. Honey Stair looked out of the win- 
dow as she paused a moment in her packing and shud- 
dered. “If it is raining like this to-morrow, I simply 
won’t be able to stand it,” she said aloud. The mort- 
gage on the Stair plantation had been foreclosed, all 
the slaves except Ephraim and Mandy were gone, and 
the next day the family would leave the beautiful 
old home in Virginia and journey to a little farm up 
near Washington, all that was left of their once great 
possessions. 

Great tears rolled down Honey’s face as she folded 
a dainty little muslin dress sprigged with roses. She 
wondered if she would ever in her life have the good 
times again that her little party dress had seen. It 
seemed to the girl that all the tender ties of her life 
were being uprooted and torn asunder. 

When the next morning dawned clear and beauti- 
ful, Honey wondered if that improved matters any, 
because everything looked so lovely ; with the raindrops 
still glistening on the leaves and grass, it was more 
than she could bear to leave it all. 

Agnes Ward drove Prince over in the trap to say 
good-bye to the family and to take Honey home with 
her for a visit; realizing the terrible ordeal through 
which her friends were passing, her whole soul went 
out to them in heartfelt sympathy as she watched each 
one bravely bid a silent farewell to things that were 
so dear to them. 

Spring had come in all its glory; everything in na- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


32 

ture was budding forth with new life, and every living 
being seemed thrilled with the joy and gladness around 
them. This, perhaps, gave the Stairs hope and cour- 
age to go forward and to face uncomplainingly what- 
ever fate had in store for them. 

Honey stopped to pat old Shep, so as to hide the 
tears that would come in spite of her. As she turned 
to go, Shep bounded joyously forward, expecting to 
accompany his mistress as usual ; but he came sud- 
denly to the end of the rope that Ephraim had slyly 
made secure to his collar. The poor fellow sat back 
on his haunches and whined piteously as his young 
mistress drove away. 

Agnes had gained Mr. and Mrs. Stair’s consent for 
Honey to visit at Wilston all summer and not make 
the trip to her new home till fall, when the Wards 
expected to visit relatives in Washington. As they 
drove down the river road, Agnes chatted gaily, striv- 
ing to divert her companion’s mind from the sad fare- 
wells she had just made. 

“We’ll have the most glorious summer, Honey, dear. 
We’ll live over all the lovely games we used to make 
up when we were little girls. Do you remember what 
wonderful things we used to plan?” Honey nodded 
and smiled, but it was rather a tearful little smile. 

One so young as Honey couldn’t possibly remain 
downcast long in the company of so gay a companion 
and on such a morning. It was the kind of a day 
that made one feel he was very glad to be alive, and 
the road along which they were driving was especially 
beautiful. The winter wheat, in rich luxuriance, rolled 
back to the hills ; orchards were in full bloom ; snowy 
dogwood, rosy redbud and the lovely fringe tree, sel- 
dom seen except in Virginia, alternated with the pale 
green of birch and willow. The wide spaces of the 
steeper banks were whitened by wild lilies and red- 
dened by columbine. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


33 

The great iron gate stood open and Prince turned in 
at Wilston of his own accord, the girls being so in- 
terested in their chatter that they had not noticed 
where they were. The beautiful old house, with its 
stately columns and spreading wings, stood at the 
top of the rolling lawn that terraced down to the 
river road. 

Aunt Sue stood in the wide gallery, arranging a 
great bowl of roses. '‘Where is mother?” called Agnes, 
as she threw the reins to a negro boy who ran up the 
drive to meet them. 

“Yo’ ma done gone down de road to Mis Braun- 
ton’s. Her baby got sick in de night, and she sent up 
heah for yo’ ma. Lawd, Mis’ Honey, I’se suah glad 
to see you.” 

“Thank you, Aunt Sue. I’m awfully glad to be 
here. Agnes and I expect to give you a heap of trouble 
this summer. We want you to teach us how to make 
all kinds of good things.” 

“Ole Aunty ’ll make good things foah you all, but 
you can’t spoil yo’ pretty hands foolin’ round de kit- 
chen.” 

“Aunt Sue hasn’t changed any, you see,” laughed 
Agnes as the girls went inside together. 

The great hall ran through the house to the back 
gallery, and was the favorite lounging place, both win- 
ter and summer, for the family and guests. Com- 
fortable chairs and settees of beautiful old hand- 
carved mahogany stood about with such an inviting air 
of hospitality that the visitor must, perforce, sit awhile 
before going on. The walls were hung with the like- 
nesses of many generations done by famous artists, 
and over the great fireplace hung a wonderful likeness 
of Mrs. Ward, done just before her marriage. She 
had been a great beauty, and the lovely face smiled 
down on her household with an everchanging sweet- 
ness. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


34 

Mrs. Ward greeted Honey very warmly when she 
returned home that evening. The girl had always 
been a great favorite with her. As she kissed the 
sweet young face she said, “It was so sweet of your 
mother to spare you to us for the summer. It is so 
lonely for us with Mr. Ward and David away at the 
war. We’ll do our best, dear, to keep you from get- 
ting homesick.” 

Honey simply adored Mrs. Ward, who was still a 
very beautiful woman. Nobility of character and effi- 
ciency were written on her face, and a gentle, gracious 
dignity in her bearing gave her a distinguished charm 
and attractiveness that jewels and gorgeous array 
would never be able to bestow. She always looked 
queenly, no matter how simple her gown. Her great- 
est charm was her manner, always showing a sym- 
pathetic interest in others. She was constantly giv- 
ing aid in sickness or distress, and her lists of private 
charities were innumerable. Her kind consideration 
for those dependent upon her was rewarded by faithful 
service. Her servants worshipped her ; not one of the 
slaves had left, and in the absence of her husband 
and son she was managing the affairs of her vast plan- 
tation and conferring with the foreman as well as 
Mr. Ward could have done. 

She was thus enabled to contribute very materially 
to the Confederate cause. Her friends were constantly 
warning her, however, that it would be much more 
prudent for her to move her family and such valu- 
ables as were portable to some place where the tide 
of battle was not likely to sweep everything away. 

Reluctant to leave home and dependents, she had 
delayed till danger of invasion was imminent before 
taking a house in town, and filling it with furniture, 
pictures and other effects. After all was packed and 
sent up the river, Agnes, who was the image of her 
mother, begged her to remain at Wilston a while 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


35 

longer. “I’m sure we are perfectly safe here, and 
Honey and I have planned for so long the lovely times 
we would have this summer. We want our old grove, 
where we’ve played ever since we can remember, and 
all the rest of the old haunts.” 

It did not require a great deal of persuasion, as Mrs. 
Ward was secretly as anxious as the girls to remain, 
and when she decided not to leave the next day the 
girls were so delighted that they ran away to ar- 
range for a picnifc in their favorite spot in the grove. 

It was in April, and there had been showers early 
in the morning. The view from the square stone 
steps, stained with time, was beautiful. The tulip- 
poplar on the left was a monarch, carrying his crown 
aloft with the just pride of a lusty octogenarian. The 
up-river floods had dyed the water a dull red, and 
the warm color deluded the eye with the effect of a 
sunset reflection that seemed to light up the wet lawns 
and the gray boundary lines. And all the while the 
birds were singing; the red-birds dropped like sud- 
den flame from the wet trees, and the thrushes’ little 
throats and hearts swelled with the gospel, “Behind 
the clouds is the sun still shining.” Just then the sun 
shone forth in all its glory. 

Agnes ran to the kitchen in search of Aunt Sue. 
“Please fix a nice lunch for us, Aunt Sue. Honey and 
I are going on a picnic this afternoon. The Bentons 
and some friends who are visiting them are going 
to meet us in the grove.” 

“Bless yo’ heart, honey; ole Aunty I’ll make up a 
lunch sech as dem all nevah tasted afore. But lawd, 
chile, you all get wet. Gwine ter rain some moah.” 

“Oh, I think it will be all right. The sun is so warm 
now, and it will be perfectly dry in two hours.” 

The two girls had been joyfully anticipating this 
picnic with a few friends before they should leave 
Wilston, and fearing that something unexpected might 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


36 

come up, they were determined to go at once. There 
were so many conflicting reports that one could never 
tell what might come up. One time their friends 
would write that they must leave at once, and now 
the latest reports were that there was absolutely no 
danger, and that they might remain in Wilston all 
summer in perfect safety. However, the girls were 
going to take no chances. 

Agnes and Honey hurried on as soon as they were 
ready, for they were anxious to have a little visit 
in their favorite spot before the others should arrive. 
Miss Wilson, Agnes’ governess, was to chaperone the 
crowd, and Aunt Sue promised to come along to look 
after the lunch. Uncle Zack was to drive them over 
in the trap a little later. 

As the girls walked along the well-beaten path by the 
pretty little lake just outside the Wilston gardens, 
they were constantly recalling something they had done 
or some game they had played at this spot or that. 

They crossed a deep ravine, bridged by a pretty 
rustic bridge, and came to the great hollow tree that 
had been their trysting place ever since they could re- 
member. Many were the childish secrets the old tree 
had heard, and many and fantastic were the games it 
had shared. When their nurses had brought them 
there as little tots the tree had served as a doll’s house, 
and later it had been the home of their fairy god- 
mother, who could come forth at any time with her 
magic wand and shield them from harm. 

“Do you remember the time that David hid in the 
tree and frightened us so by echoing everything we 
said?” asked Honey, as they spread a shawl and sat 
down on the bank. 

“Yes, I reckon I do remember. David always had 
the greatest curiosity to find out what the wonderful 
game was that we were always talking about. Isn’t 
it strange that Miss Wilson was continually discourag- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


37 

ing our imagination? She certainly had queer ideas 
about it. If she knew what comfort and real fun we 
got out of the little plays we made up she would prob- 
ably have changed her opinion. But our pact made it 
impossible for her to ever know. 

“Will you ever forget as long as you live the solemn 
occasion when that pact to everlasting secrecy was 
drawn up and signed? I still have my copy tied with 
the same little red ribbon.” 

Honey laughed. “Yes, I have mine ; it was tied with 
blue ribbon. If we could only write cleverly, what 
an interesting story we could make. Do you remem- 
ber a year ago when we were confirmed? We had a 
perfect mania for self-sacrifice for a while.” 

“When we were in Washington and mamma found 
that Ring family, who had all been ill with typhoid 
and were too poor to go to the country as the doctors 
had ordered, I gave up most of my allowance to help 
pay their board .at a pretty little place mother found. 
I did it quite voluntarily. We heard not long ago 
that Myra Ring has a marvelous voice. I’m afraid, 
Honey dear, that I have grown more selfish since 
then, because it was a real effort when mamma asked 
me to give up my lovely birthday party last month 
and use the money it would cost to buy things for the 
sick and wounded in the Confederate hospitals. I had 
planned on that party for months. I reckon I’m a 
selfish little beast, when our soldiers are giving up 
their lives and everything they hold dear to fight for 
the cause they love.” 

“Agnes Ward, you’re a darling, and absolutely un- 
selfish. Of course, it was hard to give up your lovely 
party, but when you go to town and can visit the 
hospitals, then you’ll be so glad that you could help a 
little.” 

The sweet voice choked suddenly and Honey buried 
her bright head in Agnes’ lap. “It seems so hard 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


38 

that I can’t do anything. And oh, Agnes, I won’t 
be able to go to Europe to study music when you 
go!” 

Agnes stroked the girl’s hair a while in silence, and 
let her have her cry out ; then she said softly, “Do you 
remember once, when we lived in that other world of 
ours, the imagination world, that we were nurses, 
and went about ministering to people? And we met 
the fairy princes, and they were so pleased with us 
for using our time in that way that they fell in love 
at sight and carried us away to the wonderful castle 
across the sea? Do you remember?” 

Honey sat up, drying her eyes. “Thank you, Agnes ; 
there is something I can do, even if I am only four- 
teen.” 

The girls had been so absorbed in their conversation 
they had not noticed the sudden change in the weather, 
and a long ominous growl of thunder brought them 
to their feet with a cry. The big, slow raindrops soon 
changed into a torrent, and the girls clambered into 
their old refuge, the hollow tree, where they snuggled 
together as cosy and dry as you please. 

Agnes seemed to be enjoying the wonderful play of 
lightning and the continuous cannonade of thunder so 
much that Honey was ashamed to show how fright- 
ened she was, so she cowered back as far as possible 
and closed her eyes. 

A blinding flash, followed by a crash that sounded 
like a terrific explosion, shook the grove. A grand old 
monarch had been struck, and as it toppled the two 
girls sat petrified; the hollow tree was directly in its 
path. It seemed a century that they sat spellbound, 
expecting to be crushed. But the great branches 
caught on another tree and the enormous trunk 
crashed down in front of them. 

While they were still trembling from the reaction 
they heard a shout and saw Zack coming through the 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


39 

trees. A little further on Charles and A1 Benton sat 
in the trap. The rain ceased as suddenly as it had 
come, and the sun shone forth as brightly as ever in 
a very few moments. They had some difficulty in get- 
ting the girls out over the fallen tree, but it was finally 
accomplished amid much merriment. 

“Oh, by the way/’ remarked A1 joyfully, “Mrs. 
Ward has asked us all to stay to dinner and spend 
the evening.” 

“Oh, what a lark/’ cried the girls. “We’ll have a 
taffy pull, and dance and make up in fine style for be- 
ing cheated out of our picnic.” 

They raced for the trap, and Agnes and Charlie were 
already seated when A1 and Honey caught up. Honey 
gave her companion a mischievous side glance. She 
knew how much he coveted Charlie’s place beside 
Agnes. The lad made the best of it, however, and 
devoted himself very attentively to Honey all the way 
home. 

Mrs. Ward was waiting in the gallery for them and 
announced that she had sent word to Mrs. Benton that 
the young people would spend the night at Wilston. 

“Oh, mamma, you are a darling. We’ll have a real 
house-party, and there is no telling when we can have 
another in these unsettled times.” 

After dinner the merry crowd assembled in the great 
hall, where games, music, story-telling and dancing 
were indulged in and fun and laughter reigned su- 
preme till a late hour. Agnes proved herself a charm- 
ing hostess and made each one feel that their presence 
was essential to the pleasure of the evening, excepting, 
perhaps, poor Al. She was gracious enough to him, 
but did not single him out for any special attention, 
and that was what he desired above all things. 

When the boys had gone to their room that night 
Al stood looking out of the window in silence for so 


40 WILLIAM WINSTON 

long that Charlie finally asked him what on earth ailed 
him. 

“Oh, I can’t remember when I haven’t been in love 
with Agnes Ward, and she always treats me with the 
utmost indifference. It has gotten worse as she grows 
older. I’m going to the war. Perhaps that will at 
least win her respect. You noticed how proud she 
was whenever she mentioned David. I will show her 
that I, too, have the courage to fight for my country.” 

Meanwhile Agnes and Honey were going over their 
exciting day. Honey had just started to braid her 
lovely, long hair when Mrs. Ward opened the door. 
“Girls, I have some unpleasant news. While you were 
away a message came that my sister in London is very 
ill, and I must start to-morrow. I have been packing 
all evening, but didn’t want to say anything to spoil 
your evening’s pleasure.” 

She put her arms around Honey and kissed her. 
“You don’t know, little girl, how sorry I am that 
our visit must be cut short this way, but we will take 
you with us as far as Washington.” 

The girls didn’t close their eyes till the first faint 
light of early dawn peeped in at the window, and it 
seemed but a few moments when they heard Aunt 
Sue’s voice calling, “Yo’ baf all ready, lille missies, an’ 
de sun’s way up waitin’ foah you.” 

Excitement was great when the news was made 
known at the breakfast table. The Benton girls were 
wild at the prospect of receiving letters from London. 
“And, Agnes, perhaps you’ll see the Queen,” they 
cried in a breath. 

As soon as their guests had gone the two chums 
slipped away to the old hollow tree to weep over each 
other and to say good-bye, for they didn’t know how 
long. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


4i 


CHAPTER VI. 

DEFENDING THE CAPITOL. 

The October sun was shining brightly on the camp, 
and William, as he sat on a log near one of the scat- 
tered tents, wistfully cast his eyes about for a quiet, 
shady place to read. The mess had gathered sleepily 
after the mid-day meal and were telling stories be- 
neath the shadow of the few trees nearby down the 
gentle slope. 

In the group of privates stretched under the gauzy 
shade, on the trampled grass, the first thing to strike 
an observer would have been, perhaps, their extreme 
youth. One of the men who was leaning against a 
tree remarked, “This is certainly a young-looking 
crowd to be soldiers. That boy sitting over there on 
the log is surely the youngest soldier I ever saw.” 

Henry Lacey looked in the direction indicated and 
said, “That is William Winston. He went with me 
to see the men enlist, and was the first one to step 
forward and sign his name. There were objections 
on account of his youth ; however, after much discus- 
sion he was allowed to enlist as a drummer boy. But 
when the guns were given out and the drilling began 
preparatory to coming to the front William told the 
Captain that he would rather have a gun — he didn't 
want a drum. The Captain hesitated a moment as he 
looked at the slight figure before him, but finally gave 
the little man a gun, as he remarked, “Well, I guess 
you can stop a bullet as well as the rest of us.” 

He can’t be more than twelve, judging from his 
size,” said the first speaker. 

Henry considered for a moment — “I believe he is 
fourteen, but rather small for his age.” 

Many of the group were not yet twenty, and there 


42 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


was about them a peculiar expression of enthusiasm; 
a single wave of emotion which, rising to its height, 
in an entire people, revealed itself in the features of 
the individual soldier. It seemed that each one 
embraced the principle and cause of the Union 
with an intense fervor that was born of the convic- 
tion that their liberty depended upon the preservation 
of the Union. 

Beyond them, past the scattered tents, the bruised 
grass of the field swept down to the river. Farther 
away there was a dark stretch of hemlocks and syca- 
mores, relieved against the faint tracery of the Blue 
Mountains in the distance. 

William, sitting on the log in the sun, closed his 
book, threw a single glance to the distant line of trees, 
and brought his gaze back to the group of men nearby. 
Going over to join them, he threw himself down and 
began tickling Ted’s nose with a blade of grass. Ted 
grunted and opened his eyes ; then he yawned prodigi- 
ously, stretched himself, and sat up. 

“It’s time for you to wake up,” said William, in 
answer to Ted’s complaint. “You are a nice one to be 
on the defense of the Capitol.” 

“I worked like a nigger hauling firewood yesterday,” 
said Ted reproachfully. “Anyway, the enemy is so 
quiet that I haven’t seen or heard a thing of them 
yet.” 

“What’s that about the enemy?” growled Jack Lloyd 
from the other side. “Here we’ve been drilling until 
I’m stiff in every joint and there isn’t a sign of a 
fight yet. Talk about martial glory. If there is any- 
one who thinks it is fun to settle down in an old field 
and drill five hours a day, get dirty and go without 
almost every necessity of life, he is welcome to my 
share, that s all. It would be much more exciting to 
sell peanuts at a picnic.” 

Leaning back against the tree, he blew a cloud of 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


43 

smoke around his head, which didn’t seem to soothe 
his feelings in the matter as he added, “I'll be blessed 
if I don’t think five hours’ drill too much. I suppose 
the officers think it is their duty to keep us busy. 
I'm not going to war again, unless I can go as a 
Captain, or an officer of some rank.” 

“Don’t be so modest, Jack. Make it Commander- 
in-Chief at least,” said Ted. “Aim high; any boy in 
the land can aspire to be President and Commander-in- 
Chief.” 

In the laugh that followed Ted’s sally, William re- 
marked, “When did you change your views, Jack? I 
heard you make a fuss about the officers’ mess, and 
at the same time you contended that no one should 
consider anyone else his inferior, and where every 
man is fighting for his country they are certainly all 
equal.” 

“That’s the spirit,” said Henry. “When we were 
marching shoulder to shoulder, charging the enemy, it 
seemed to me that I loved every man in our army.” 

William looked toward the village. Down the dusty 
road a wayfarer was walking slowly toward the camp. 
A great loneliness swept suddenly over the boy as 
he stood there with a far-off look in his face. With 
a deep sigh he turned and wandered off to his tent. 

As he threw himself down in the strip of shade at 
the side of the tree he looked longingly at the dim 
chain of mountains, which showed like faint blue 
clouds against the sky, while his thoughts returned 
to the lake, the grove, and the smooth lawn at the 
Maples. He drew a letter from his mother out of an 
inside pocket and read it for the hundredth time. 
It told how his father had had a relapse and had 
returned to the hospital. The lad wondered how 
long London would hold them in its grasp. 

The memory of his last lonely nights at home, with- 
out them and Nell, was so vivid that when he closed 


44 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


his eyes it was as though he heard the tapping of 
the maple branches against his window and felt the 
breeze blowing over the sweet-smelling meadows. 
Through his closed eyes a vision of his past year’s 
experiences passed in review : the storm at sea, the 
little girl, drenched and cold on the deck, and, above 
all, her voice which so strangely fascinated him. 

He opened his eyes with a start and, pillowing 
his head on his arm, lay there looking off into the 
distance. Far away, beyond the murmur of the camp, 
he heard a strange commotion beyond the tangled 
meadow; and at the same instant he heard his own 
name called through the sunshine. 

“I say, William, where are you?” He sat up and 
called in response, and Henry Lacey came around the 
corner of the tent and flung himself down in the 
shade. 

“You noticed that man coming up the road as you 
left? He came over to us and pretended to be lost, 
and asked how he could strike the road to the Ferry. 
Jack told him he might be able to strike it with a 
rock or a stick, or when he got close enough he could 
stand on his head if he wanted to. 

“As the man turned away, without a word, I told 
Jack that his directions were certainly comprehensive, 
and that he might be lost himself sometime, and would 
thank someone for a civil reply. So he got up and 
called after the stranger that the Ferry had been de- 
stroyed. The fellow went on, and his pass was ac- 
cepted by the guard. 

“I have a very strong impression that he was one 
of a gang of guerillas, as he didn’t appear to be so 
strange as he might like to have us think. You see 
they are here among friends and can disband at any 
time and pretend to be peaceable, non-combatant citi- 
zens. Their excuse for not being in the Confederate 
Army is that they are millers or they are disabled.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


45 

“Look,” cried William, suddenly, “there comes Roy 
Baker, of our company. Let’s go over and find out 
how he likes acting as hostler at headquarters.” 

Roy was surrounded by a group of interested men, 
and as they approached they heard him say, “She was 
as pretty a rebel as you ever laid your eyes on, and 
our Brigadier-General promptly fell in love with her. 
She encouraged his suit till she got the countersign 
out of him, and then she immediately passed it on to 
that rascally guerilla colonel, who has been raising 
the deuce around here. 

“He dressed his men in our cavalry uniform, passed 
the pickets with the correct countersign, and rode right 
into headquarters, where thousands of Union soldiers 
were peacefully sleeping. 

“I heard a commotion among the horses, and hurried 
down to see what was wrong. There was a man on 
one of the horses and leading another. I called out, 
‘Hey, there, get off that horse ; it belongs to the Gen- 
eral !’ 

“Some one in the gloom beside me thrust a gun 
into my face with the command, ‘Get on that horse 
and keep your mouth shut !’ 

“I necessarily obeyed very meekly and soon found 
that there were a number of prisoners, among them 
the ardent lover. After traveling some distance in 
the dark, it dawned upon me that the intense blackness 
on either side of our narrow lane must be woods. I 
had been in the depths of despair. Death seemed a 
thousand times more perferable than being kept a 
prisoner in one of those terrible Southern prisons. 
Horrid visions loomed before me, and I was contem- 
plating all sorts of desperate things, when I suddenly 
noticed the woods. 

“Without the slightest consideration of what might 
follow, I put spurs to my -high-spirited horse, and 
he jumped into the air as though possessed by a 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


4 6 

demon. The next instant he went over the fence like 
a bird and crashed into the dense woods. Progress 
was slow through the thick underbrush, but in a few 
moments we came to the edge of the woods and I 
urged him at full speed back to camp to give the 
alarm. 

“But after my escape the wily guerillas must have 
hastened their pace, for our pursuing party found 
no trace of them. ,, 

“It’s too bad they got away,V said Henry, “but 
we're glad that you escaped. Weren’t you afraid of 
being filled with lead?” 

“No ; it suddenly flashed through my mind that they 
wouldn’t dare to shoot, for that would give the alarm.” 

His audience yelled, “Hurrah for Roy !” and as they 
dispersed, Jack called out, “Take warning, boys, and 
don’t fall in love with an enemy.” 

“Aren’t you ever going to get up, William?” called 
Henry the next morning, when he returned to the 
tent the third time and found the lad still sleeping. 

“I suppose it will be the same old programme : drill, 
drill, drill,” said William, disconsolately. “Our nine 
months will soon be up before we have a chance to 
take part in an engagement with the enemy even 
once.” 

“Don’t be impatient, boy. The Confederates will 
probably attempt to capture Washington one of these 
days, and we must be ready to give them a warm 
reception and defeat them at all hazards. The report 
came in this morning that there is a band of guerillas 
committing depredations between the lines. A scout- 
ing party is to be sent out to locate them, if pos- 
sible. Hurry, now, and we may be included in the 
party” 

“Good !” cried William, as he jumped into his cloth- 
ing. “That would be a change.” He was barely 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


4 7 

ready when the order came for them to be at the 
river in twenty minutes. 

After crossing the river they secured their boats and 
plunged into the thick woods that lined the river bank 
at this point. Their progress was greatly impeded 
by the thick underbrush, which crackled under their 
feet in what seemed to them a deafening noise. 

Each one was alert and watchful, as the enemy 
could be obscured from their view only a few feet 
away. The knowledge of a hidden evil, the uncer- 
tainty and utter ignorance of the number or where- 
abouts of an invisible foe caused a thousand hideous 
possibilities to come toward them from out the 
stretch of wood. These Green Mountain boys were 
brave and fearless. A visible danger they felt they 
could meet face to face and conquer. They bravely 
went forward with a firm determination to stand 
against the enemy, even though they might outnum- 
ber them and were ready to spring upon them un- 
awares. 

Several men in the party were soldiers who knew 
what it was to charge in the face of cannon, and 
William had been thrilled when listening to their de- 
scriptions of how they felt when advancing to clasp 
hands with death. But this uncertainty seemed worse 
to him. His own imagination presented scenes that 
caused him to get dizzy and sick ; he looked at his 
comrades, thinking they could somehow change things. 

Suddenly in the distance there could be heard an 
indescribable murmur of voices. Each one peered 
intently through the brush. They were in a ravine 
at the edge of a flat. The men unslung their guns, 
hitched their revolvers about, and waited while the 
Captain went down the hollow to reconnoiter. 

It seemed that they must have waited hours, when 
suddenly the Captain climbed* down the bank above 
their heads and dropped into their midst. He had 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


48 

found nothing more formidable than a crowd of boys 
drilling with sticks and broom handles, past the bushes 
that fringed the base of the hill. He gave the order 
to advance, and they went down the ravine single file, 
spreading out gradually as they crossed the flat toward 
a clearing near the open road. 

As they came out upon the open road they were 
all unconcerned enough. One big fellow dropped his 
gun into the crook of his arm, pulled out a plug of to- 
bacco, and, after taking a generous bite, tossed it to 
his comrade, who caught it, buried it a moment under 
his moustache, and then held the remnant up to the 
other’s sight, grinning as he tossed it back; neither 
had lost his place in the advancing line. 

After a long and fruitless search the party was 
nearing the river, and they were all weary, foot- 
sore and disappointed. Suddenly the Captain, who 
seemed to have ears like an Indian, gave the com- 
mand “Halt!” He stood watching the bushes that 
edged the bank — a minute passed ; all at once two men 
dressed in citizens’ clothes stepped into view about 
fifty yards away. 

The command “Halt !” again rang out, and the two 
men stood still. In answer to the Captain’s questions 
they said they knew nothing of the guerillas. They 
were millers and most peaceable citizens. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE BOAT WAS UPTURNED. 

It was almost dusk, and the gorgeous coloring of 
the autumn twilight was fading in the dusky pall of 
the grove. Objects were indistinguishable at a short 
distance in that hazy light. 

They hurried on to the river bank, but only one 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


49 

boat was riding at the place where they had landed; 
there was no trace of the other. They all crowded 
into the one boat and were soon safely launched. 

Henry Lacey and the Captain were pulling at the 
oars steadily, and as they reached the middle of the 
stream the current began taking them out of their 
course. This caused the oarsmen to quicken their 
strokes, and as they battled against the swift current 
the over-crowded boat rocked from side to side as it 
groaned under its heavy burden. 

“Boys,” called the Captain, sternly, “you must sit 
still!” And the boat went over on his side so far as 
to take in water. After this warning, emphasized 
by the water in the bottom, all sat perfectly quiet. 

The soft rays of the young moon were shining on 
the water; the men were rejoicing at the thought 
of camp and a well-earned supper, when suddenly 
some unconscious movement sent the boat over peril- 
ously far, and the next instant all were struggling in 
the water. 

Each having on heavy accoutrements, it was difficult 
for the strongest to swim. William being fatigued by 
the long march, in addition to his high knee-boots, 
a Colt’s army six-shooter, an army gun strapped to 
his shoulder and six rounds of ammunition, went 
quickly to the bottom. On coming to the surface he 
made a desperate effort to swim, but failed and went 
down again. 

Jack Lloyd, who was standing on the shore with a 
crowd of boys, saw his young friend’s plight, and, 
pulling off boots and coat, plunged into the river. He 
caught the lad’s thick mat of curls as he was going 
down the third time. 

They were a sorry looking crowd who stood by 
watching Jack and Roy as they rolled William on 
the bank with his head down.' The doctor had not yet 
arrived. Henry knelt down by his little friend. The 


5 o WILLIAM WINSTON 

Captain, coming up at that moment, asked, “Is there 
any change?” 

Henry leaned closer, and then replied, “No; he is 
still unconscious.” 

The Captain turned away. “My God, surely the boy 
is not drowned ! Why did I let him go ?” 


CHAPTER VIII. 
william’s hero. 

“Hello kid ; I’m so glad to see you looking yourself 
again!” exclaimed Jack and Roy in one breath, as 
they entered the tent where William and Henry sat. 
“That was a terrible fright you gave us, and I al- 
ways thought you could swim like a fish.” 

“Well, I guess you couldn’t swim either if you were 
struck on the head with a gun besides being weighted 
down with all those heavy accoutrements,” William 
replied plaintively. 

“I swan; it took a long time to revive the boy. I 
had given up hope, and I can tell you it was a joyous 
sight to see him open his eyes,” said Henry, and 
then laughingly asked, “How does it feel to be 
drowned ?” 

“Oh, as I was going down the third time I thought 
to myself, 'well, this is the end,’ and the scenes of 
my whole life seemed to flash before my mind all 
at once; the last was home and my mother, and I 
felt a keen regret that I would not see her again, or 
would not even be in one battle. Then I lost con- 
sciousness, and that was the end; no suffering. All 
was peace. It seemed the same as going to sleep, 
and the next thing I knew there seemed to be a sweet 
voice calling to me from far away. When I opened 
my eyes you were bending over me, and the boys 
were rolling me.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 51 

t( J ac k an d Roy stood up with a tremendous yawn. 
“Guess we’d better turn in and give you a chance to 
get some sleep, or you won’t be able to go to Mount 
Vernon with us in the morning. Good-night.” 

“Who said it was only twelve miles to Mount Ver- 
non?” asked William as he stopped to get his breath. 
“It seems to me that we must have walked twenty 
already.” 

The boys hurried onward ; their leave of absence was 
only for one day ; it was after twelve, and they had not 
reached their destination. Great orchards were passed, 
and in fancy the odor of sweet-smelling fruit filled 
the air. 

The November sun shone brightly, and thousands 
of little brown balls from the sycamore trees danced 
about in the autumn breeze. 

Upon reaching Mount Vernon, the old historic place 
seemed to have a subtle charm for the weary way- 
farers as they wandered about, each busy with his 
own thoughts. To William every spot seemed sacred, 
and he tried to picture in his mind how the Father 
of our Country looked when there in person, walking 
about these very grounds. His spirit seemed to be still 
present, and this gave the place a halo of fascinating 
interest. 

As they entered the stately old home an aged negro 
met them at the door. It was he who guarded the 
place that is of such value to the American people. 
The tread of millions will echo along the great halls 
as long as the love of liberty shall remain in the human 
breast. 

“Yes, young marse, ah was heah when Marse 
George was alive,” said the old negro in reply to Will- 
iam’s question. 

It was with the greatest reverence that the boys 
stepped upon the old stairway that had echoed so many 
times to the tread of Washington. Their ancient guide 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


52 

had some interesting anecdote or tale for each room 
and nook. At last he threw open a door with a flourish 
and announced, “Dis heah room was Mis’ Martha’s/’ 

William stood by the window and gazed at the tomb 
while the old negro related stories of his beloved mas- 
ter and mistress. As they left the house, William 
slipped away to the tomb of his hero and knelt with 
bare head and prayed. His admiration for his great 
hero inspired the boy with a longing that he could 
not define and in reverence he prayed to the Great 
Creator of all, as he groped in the dark as it were 
for the meaning of true heroism, and the divine rela- 
tion which in all times unites a great man with 
mankind. 

One comfort is that great men taken up in any way 
are profitable company. We cannot look, however 
imperfectly, upon a great man without gaining some- 
thing by him. He is the living light-fountain which 
is good and pleasant to be near — the light which 
enlightens and has enlightened the world ; and this 
is not as a kindled lamp only, but rather as a natural 
luminary shining by the gift of heaven — a flowing 
light-fountain, as I say, of native, original insight of 
manhood and heroic nobleness, in whose radiance all 
souls feel inspired to higher ideals. 

When the mind is trained to the admiration of the 
loftiest types it ministers moral strength to the charac- 
ter, and is a stepping-stone to a higher realm or larger 
life of the individual, where can be seen the larger 
minds that uplift the nations of the world. In culti- 
vating our higher faculties we develop greater capacity 
for truth and love, and a sympathetic understanding 
of the weaker ones, inspiring them with a trust in the 
higher, nobler self within them. 

Leaving the tomb, William wandered away toward 
the old church. It was a perfect day; the path was 
flecked with sunlight filtering through the trees. As 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


53 

he looked toward the open door a feeling of great 
loneliness came over him. There was no sound of 
music now rising in well-rounded harmony, now sink- 
ing into dreamy melody, as is the custom in a sacred 
edifice ; he felt it should be here, especially, in the 
church twice hallowed, first by its dedication to Al- 
mighty God, secondly, by the universal reverence of 
mankind as the very timbers visible to-day have heard 
the impassioned prayers of the Father of Our Country. 

It seemed that present time and things had no place 
in the boy’s thoughts. He felt that everything that 
George Washington had ever touched should be held 
sacred. As he entered the door of the house where 
the general and liberator of our country had wor- 
shipped this feeling was especially strong, and he was 
rudely awakened and brought down from the heights 
where he had been soaring; to his horror and amaze- 
ment, he saw that the place of worship was used as a 
stable for cavalry horses. 

Turning away sad at heart, the boy suddenly noticed 
for the first time that it was getting late. He imme- 
diately started in search of his companions, but was 
greatly alarmed to find no trace of them. He realized 
that he was very hungry and that he was a long dis- 
tance from his quarters. 

This was his first leave of absence, and he won- 
dered what the punishment would be for remaining 
away overtime. 

With the coming down of the darkness a slow fear 
crept over him and he wondered indignantly why the 
boys had left him. When at last he came out into 
the road his courage did. not return. Every shadow 
held his gaze ; and, as if fascinated, he watched every 
shrub along the road, fearing that each had a lurking 
foe. Coming upon an elevation, he saw a light shin- 
ing from the windows of a farmhouse. 

The sight cheered him and he hurried eagerly for- 


54 WILLIAM WINSTON 

ward, wondering if they were Union people. Again 
despair took possession of him at the thought that 
they might be Rebels. However, that light seemed 
to be the one bright thing in a universe of blackness, 
and he turned in the driveway and walked slowly 
toward the house. In answer to his somewhat hesi- 
tating knock, a big man in the Union blue opened the 
door, and the lad’s fear and anxiety vanished like a 
flash. 

He obtained such a supper as he had not tasted 
since he left home and a comfortable night’s lodging. 
The next morning after breakfast William started on 
his way, bright and early. He felt very lonely, and re- 
gretted having wandered away by himself, instead of 
keeping close to the other boys. There was also that 
disagreeable sinking in the region of his belt, which 
always accompanies the sure knowledge of punish- 
ment to be received but ignorance as to its nature. 

He noticed two forms rapidly approaching in the 
distance, and as they drew near he was rejoiced to 
recognize Henry and Jack. It seemed that the boys, 
when ready to start back from Mount Vernon, could 
find no trace of William, and received no answer to 
their repeated shouts. Supposing that he had struck 
out for camp by himself, they gave the matter no 
further notice till they reached their quarters and 
found no William. 

Henry and Jack had immediately volunteered to go 
in search of the lad, fearing that he had either lost 
his way or something dreadful had befallen him. 
Weary and footsore, after a long night’s search, they 
were overjoyed to find the boy, but Henry said sternly, 
“You young rascal, where have you been all this 
time? A nice fright you gave us. We were afraid 
that you had been captured by the guerillas/’ 

“Give a full account of yourself,” said Jack, trying 
to assume a fierce scowl. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


55 

As they went on their way William related his ad- 
ventures and said he thought it was mean of the boys 
to go and leave him. Then he told them how en- 
tranced he had been with Mount Vernon and the 
stories told by the old negro. 

“Do you know that old man lived there in Wash- 
ington’s time; knew him and served him?” After a 
few moments he added, “Don’t you think George 
Washington is the greatest man who has ever lived 
in the world?” 

“Yes,” said Henry thoughtfully, “he was certainly 
one of the greatest. He remained true to his faith 
in facts, and had the strength and courage to live 
up to his ideals. Only once in many ages is such a 
great soul seen — to refuse a crown, to eliminate self- 
interest and think only of the best interest of the 
people and his country. Surely such greatness will 
stand out pre-eminently in all ages.” 

“Well, I should say so,” said Jack earnestly, and 
William’s face beamed at hearing his hero thus praised 
by one who had always seemed a very wonderful per- 
son to him, even when as a tiny boy he would run 
at Henry’s heels. 

They were nearing their destination. All nature, 
though shorn of the green foliage, seemed brighter in 
the morning sun, as the few sear, golden leaves that 
had not been swept away by the wind fluttered gaily 
here and there. 

William’s courage misgave him as they came in view 
of the men drilling; and for the first time the stern 
and relentless military ruling seemed to be presented 
to his youthful mind, and he wished with all his heart 
that he were safe in school with Nell. 


56 


WILLIAM WINSTON] 


CHAPTER IX. 

ON FATIGUE DUTY 

James Rand, a drummer boy, son of one of the 
officers, and a new chum of William, appeared at the 
tent and called cheerily, “Hello, Henry; where is Will- 
iam? Eve come to stay all night with him.” 

“Then you’ll have to go to the guardhouse if you 
want to stay all night with William.” 

“Henry Lacey, what do you mean?” cried James, 
in great astonishment. 

“I mean just what I said. William overstayed his 
leave of absence, and is being punished.” 

“Is that all? Then I’ll find father and get him to 
intercede for William,” and James rushed away to the 
officers’ quarters ; but great was his disappointment to 
find that his father had been called away and would 
not return until the next day, so he trudged back to 
report unfavorably to Henry. 

William spent an uncomfortable night in the guard 
house and was ordered out on fatigue duty early in 
the morning. He was told to cut down a small tree 
that stood on the parade ground. He apparently 
chopped very busily on the little tree all day, but 
made no perceptible headway. It was evident that 
such strenuous exercise did not appeal to him at all. 
It was very humiliating to have his vacation end this 
way, and he made up his mind to be very careful 
about returning on time in the future. 

The little tree was still standing when James ap- 
peared, late in the afternoon, with William’s release. 
He said his father was very sorry that he had been 
away the day before ; he was more than glad to secure 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


57 

the release from durance vile of a lad who loved and 
revered George Washington to such a marked degree. 

The boys were all delighted when William returned 
to his quarters, but his ability as a woodchopper 
called forth a great deal of merriment, and every one 
was having a lot of fun at his expense, when the 
youngster suddenly remarked, “I can tell you one 
thing, the supper and breakfast I had at that farm- 
house almost pays for it all.” 

A good-natured laugh arose at the effort to change 
the subject. “You might go over to Stairs for some 
bread,” said Henry. “That would be a change. I 
heard the other day that the Stairs had lost a beauti- 
ful place not far from Richmond; they have a son 
in the Confederate Army. The two old negroes, Uncle 
Ephraim and Aunt Mandy, the only faithful ones 
among all their slaves, remained with the family and 
are helping pay expenses by baking bread to sell to the 
Federal soldiers. It certainly is good bread that old 
mammy knows how to cook.” 

“They have such a beautiful shepherd dog,” said 
William. “I have often talked to Uncle Ephraim when 
passing there. He is full of stories of past glories. 
I’ll get some fresh bread for supper. Maybe they’ll 
have hot corn bread.” 


CHAPTER X. 

HANDSOME OLD SHEP. 

William followed the main stage road that 
stretched naked and barren for a good half mile, di- 
viding with its sandy length the low-lying fields. At 
the end of the half mile the road ascended a slight 
elevation and the character of the soil changed 
abruptly into clay of vivid red, which, extending a 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


58 

dozen yards up the hillside, appeared in a general view 
of the landscape, like the scarlet coloring of autumn 
leaves. 

The boy trudged resolutely along the sandy road, 
and he quickened his pace as he came into the shadow 
of a stretch of woodland that was darkly outlined 
against the horizon, standing a gloomy advance guard 
of the shadows of the coming night. At the end of the 
woods the road ran into the open again, a straight.level 
stretch, and not far away he could see, like burnished 
squares, the windows of the Stair house. 

Between the thicket and the house there was a long 
stretch of clearing that had once been planted in 
corn, and now through the dry stubble could be seen 
the barren soil, whose strength had been exhausted 
long since by years of production without returns — 
tilled by hands that had forced without fertilizing. 
There was now grim pathos in its absolute sterility, 
telling as it did of long-gone fields of grain and his- 
toric harvests. 

William skirted the waste and was turning into the 
pasture gate on the opposite side of the road when 
he heard a fierce barking and the big shepherd dog 
came rushing madly at him. He stood still for a 
moment, and then in his own way made friends with 
Mr. Shep. He was very fond of animals and never 
failed to win their confidence. As they walked up the 
lane and through the gate that opened into the small 
square yard immediately surrounding the house, the 
dog leaped and frisked around him almost as joyously 
as though he were welcoming the return of his mis- 
tress. 

Ephraim was at the pump near the back door, wash- 
ing his hands, as he noticed the boy approaching. 
Learning his errand, he went into the house to get 
the bread, while the boy stood by the gate playing 
with the dog and gazing absently at the unkempt 


WILLIAM WINSTON 59 

backyard which was all littered with chips from the 
woodpile. 

At that moment a soldier came into view, on the 
road, and Shep rushed furiously toward him. Will- 
iam was horrified to see the man raise his gun and 
aim at the dog. He called out frantically : 

“Let the dog alone ; he won’t hurt you.” But he was 
too late. The report of a gun rang out on the air and 
poor Shep lay quivering a moment in the dust; then 
all was still. 

“You mind your own afifairs or I’ll shoot you, 
too,” growled the soldier as William ran toward him. 
Then he recognized the brute as he cried, “You 
wouldn’t shoot anything but a dog. I'm going to 
report you, Ted Sutton.” 

Ted turned away, muttering so that he could be 
heard, “If you do, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” 

Old Ephraim, just coming out of the kitchen door, 
saw and heard everything. He looked bewildered; it 
had all happened so suddenly. Running up, he thrust 
the package of bread into the boy’s hands, and knelt 
beside the dog, hurriedly examining him in the vain 
hope that perhaps he was not dead; but life was en- 
tirely extinct. 

“Po’ ole Shep! po’ ole Shep! What’ll my lil’ Miss 
Honey say to this ?” 

William felt a lump in his throat, and, fearing to 
trust himself to speak, he set off at a run for camp. 
As he sped breathlessly along, past the wasteland, into 
the woods, and then out on the road again, he went 
too rapidly for thought. The fresh air brushed his 
heated face gently. At the edge of the wood where 
the shallow puddles lingered a rabbit stole noiselessly 
into the ditch by the sassafras and shot shy glances 
of alarm ; but the boy did not turn his head. He had 
run nearly all the way, and when at last he came into 


60 WILLIAM WINSTON 

view of the tents he saw James and Henry starting out 
to meet him. 

The sun had gone down. Above the lowering wood- 
land the horizon burned to a deep scarlet ; one gigantic 
tree, rising above the jagged line of the forest, was 
silhouetted sharply against the enkindled clouds. 

“Have you got the bread?” called James, while 
they were still some distance apart. “I’m going to eat 
supper with you and stay all night.” 

Then as they caught sight of his pale face they both 
exclaimed, “Why, what on earth is the matter?” 

Again the boy felt a choking sensation as he recalled 
the scene, but after a few moments’ pause was able to 
tell his friends all about it and express his indigna- 
tion in no uncertain terms. 

“What a low, cowardly trick,” said Henry. “Every- 
one knows a shepherd’s trick of running out at every- 
body and everything that goes past. So handsome old 
Shep is dead.” 

That evening as the Colonel was standing in a group 
of officers informally discussing the move that was 
expected to be made in the near future, he suddenly 
remarked, “I liked the answer that boy gave. It was 
a thoughtful and manly reply for one so young. I 
suspect the lad knew who the culprit was, but he would 
not divulge the name.” 

“You are speaking in riddles, Colonel,” said one of the 
officers. “Who is this paragon, and what did he say?” 

“I must have been thinking aloud. It was William 
Winston, the youngest boy in the regiment. When Mr. 
Stair asked for protection, after his dog was shot, he 
requested that William be appointed to act as guard. 
When I offered the appointment to William he asked 
me to give it to one of the men who was convalescing, 
so that he would have good food and a good bed.” 

“That boy is certainly all right,” was the unani- 
mous response of the group of listeners. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


61 

It was late, but the Colonel sat alone thinking, long 
after the officers had gone to their quarters. He 
thought of the armies of thousands of men, bivouaced 
for the night with only the sentinels tramping. They 
might be lying down on the eve of a great battle, when 
hundreds of them would be called to their eternal 
home ; and then beyond them, north, south, east and 
west, were the many, many homes with their anxious 
women and children, whose burdens seemed almost too 
hard to bear. Not a soul in this great country of ours 
but felt the awful burden of this war, in self-sacrifice, 
poverty, bereavement. 

Suddenly the Colonel clenched his fist. “Right 
must prevail. The enemy must be defeated and the 
Union preserved.” And he felt that something be- 
hind all things, beneath all things — a vast divine power 
and love — were working in a great nation not only for 
its own existence, but also for the liberation of hu- 
manity. 


CHAPTER XI. 

NURSING HIS FRIEND. 

In an army tent a young soldier tossed restlessly 
in a feverish slumber; across the tent the sunlight 
fell in long shafts. The spirit of November was abroad 
in the wood — veiling itself in a faint bluish haze, like 
the smoke of the green wood when it burns. Over- 
head, crimson and yellow ran riot among the trees, 
the flame of the maple extinguishing the dull red of 
the oak. 

William walked silently back and forth in front 
of the tent, listening intently for any sound that might 
come from the sleeper within. It was a lonely place, 


62 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


and the boy felt the chill of the autumn wind. In 
the underbrush, where the deerberry showed hectic 
blotches, a squirrel worked busily completing the win- 
ter store, while in the slanting sun-rays the autumn 
leaves fluttered in the wind. 

To William the scene had no significance. His 
mind was busily reviewing the events of the past few 
weeks. He wondered what Nell would think and 
what she would say if she could see him now in this 
lonely place, quarantined. After refusing to act as 
guard at the Stair home the night old Shep was killed, 
he and James had spent a restless night, and in the 
morning William woke up to find James all broken 
out with smallpox. 

He had volunteered to help nurse his friend, and 
had found it no easy task. The patient had been de- 
lirious, and although the nurses had watched him con- 
stantly, it had been impossible to prevent him from 
scratching his face. He had been such a handsome 
boy, but now it simply made William sick at heart 
to look at him, and he trembled at the thought of 
what a shock it would be when poor James should 
catch the first glimpse of his altered face. 

They were finally released from quarantine, and 
William was impatiently waiting for James. They 
had received new uniforms and were very anxious to 
return to their quarters. Hearing a slight noise that 
for some inexplicable reason alarmed him, William 
ran and pulled back the tent flap. 

There at the other end of the tent stood James, with 
a revolver pointed at his head. With a cry of horror, 
William sprang forward, and at the same moment the 
loud report rang out on the stillness, and was echoed 
again and again through the grove. 

. Colonel Rand was the first to reach the tent, and the 
sight that met his gaze when he pulled back the 
flaps made him faint and dizzy. He managed to gasp 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


63 

out, “Oh, my son, what has happened?” William’s 
prostrate form lay stretched on the ground, and James 
bent over him with a smoking revolver in his hand. 

James stood a moment looking at William in a 
dazed, helpless sort of way; then he suddenly knelt 
down and looked close. 

“James,” cried his father again, “what have you 
done?” 

“I was going to kill myself when I saw how my 
face was disfigured, but William rushed in and grabbed 
the gun. I think the bullet only grazed the top of his 
head, but the shock must have stunned him.” 

Kneeling down, the Colonel examined the boy 
closely and then cried, “Thank God, thank God.” 

Just then the lad opened his eyes and smiled at the 
two faces bent over him. They helped him up, and 
out they went as though nothing had happened, the 
two boys with their arms thrown affectionately about 
each other’s shoulders. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A SURPRISE. 

Their changed conditions had been a sore trial 
for the Stair family since coming to their new home 
early in April, but each one bore up bravely for the 
sake of the rest, and each uncomplainingly stood the 
test. Mr. Stair was the same chivalrous Southern 
gentleman, Mrs. Stair the same gracious, hospitable 
queen of her household. 

Honey had accompanied Mrs. Ward and Agnes as 
far as New York, and had visited in her aunt’s home 
on the Hudson all summer. It was a stormy night late 
in November when she arrived at her new home. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


64 

Having gone direct to New York from Wilston to 
the even more luxurious surroundings of her aunt’s 
home, she had almost forgotten the change in their 
circumstances, and the shock was all the greater to 
the sensitive girl. 

Escaping as soon as she could to her own room, 
where no watchful eye could detect her grief, she 
closed her door and threw herself on the bed in an 
agony of tears. She wept until she was exhausted, 
and then a terrible hatred of the people of the north 
swept over her. She blamed them bitterly for all their 
misfortunes. Finally she fell asleep, but after a while 
was awakened by her own dry sobbing. Just then 
her mother came into the room to kiss her good- 
night. As she looked up into the sweet, anxious face 
bending over her, the girl smiled through her tears 
and resolved to be brave at whatever cost. 

Mrs. Stair kissed her youngest child very tenderly. 
The sight of her little girl’s grief and her brave strug- 
gle to hide it was almost more than she could bear. 
Presently Honey gained control of herself, and she 
and her mother chatted pleasantly about her aunt and 
the lovely time she had been enjoying. “Mother, who 
is in the next room ?” asked the girl suddenly. 

“I forgot to mention it, dear ; it is a Mr. Range, a 
Federal soldier, who is acting as guard for us. There 
is a regiment of the Federal Army in winter quarters 
near here; we can see them quite distinctly from the 
little grove, drilling for the spring campaign.” 

Then as she saw the horror and amazement in her 
daughter’s face, she cried, “Why, Honey, dear, what 
is the matter?” 

“An enemy in our own house?” gasped the girl. 
“Aren’t you afraid he will kill us all in the night ?” 

“My dear little girl, he is only a protection for us. 
He is here to see that we are not molested in any way. 
Now get ready for bed and have a good night’s sleep. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 65 

You must be very tired. I will tell you all our ex- 
periences some other time. ,, 

Honey was up bright and early, and as she skipped 
from room to room, and discovering this and that fa- 
miliar object, she felt better. Here and there stood a 
handsome piece of valuable old furniture ; there hung 
a rare old portrait ; over there another. In the living- 
room she discovered many of the books from their 
well-stocked library, and in the dining-room stood the 
old family plate and priceless bits of china. All these 
made the place more homelike, and she was cheered 
and comforted. 

It was a clear, frosty morning, and Honey started 
down the lane to meet old Ephraim, who was toiling 
laboriously up the road with a huge branch over his 
shoulders, destined to be cut into firewood. As she 
went. Honey called “Shep, oh Shep,” expecting at any 
moment to see the dear old shaggy form come leaping 
and bounding at’her. 

“Uncle Eph, where is my dear old Shep?” The 
faithful negro turned away his head for a moment to 
gain courage before telling his little mistress what 
had happened to her pet. Then brokenly, and with 
many shakes of his old gray head, he related just what 
had occurred. Honey was heartbroken when she 
heard how her dog had been shot. To think that her 
playfellow from the time she was a tiny tot should be 
wantonly shot down by a Yankee soldier was beyond 
all endurance. 

She shut herself up in her room and refused ab- 
solutely to be comforted. 

The winter was a long, dreary one, but Honey had 
little time to brood. There was work to be done, 
and she endeavored conscientiously to do her part. 
Her bitterest trial was the presence of the Federal 
soldier, living in the house as one of the family. 
She treated him with a frigid dignity that would have 


66 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


been laughable if it were not so very serious to her 
and also to the poor young soldier, who would have 
liked nothing better than to be friends. 

When other soldiers came by to see him Honey 
would always shut herself in her room with a book or 
some needlework, and not appear again until they 
had gone. Mr. Range caught a severe cold and was 
confined to his room, and one day several of his 
friends came up to cheer him. Honey, sitting in her 
room with some mending, could not avoid hearing the 
conversation in the next room and was greatly sur- 
prised to hear these despised Yankee soldiers discus- 
sing literature and science and events of the day. 
She had considered them as mere white trash. 

Suddenly she heard a voice above the rest say, 
“William, come over here and tell me the news in your 
sister Nell’s letter. Is your father better?” 

“Yes, father is better, but Nell didn’t say when they 
would be coming home. She is still talking about the 
brush she won in her first fox hunt. And this letter 
has practically nothing in it but clothes. They are 
getting her ready to be presented at court, and she 
is so excited about it she can’t write of anything else.” 

“Don’t you wish you were over there in London, 
William, to see all the fun?” 

Honey did not hear the reply to this question, for 
two other voices were raised at that moment in a 
discussion of the war. 

“Of course, we believe that our freedom and liberty 
depend on the union of the country. But we all can’t 
believe alike. I sincerely think that the other side 
believes themselves just as much in the right. We 
must respect those who dare stand for the right as 
they see it, even though we can’t agree.” 

The reply was quick and emphatic. “It is pretty 
hard to understand how anyone could think it right to 
fire on Old Glory, Washington’s flag.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 67 

“Yes, I’ll admit it is pretty hard, but we’ll live in 
hopes that they will soon see the error of their ways, 
and that they will thank God when they see Old Glory 
again floating over a united country.” 

At this juncture Honey heard her mother calling, 
and slipped softly from her room and downstairs. What 
she had heard gave her plenty of food for thought. 
She at least acknowledged to herself that she was 
wrong in her opinion of the Northerners in general. 
She suggested to her father that he lend some of their 
books to Mr. Range and his friends, and she learned 
later what a boon it was to them to get good books 
to read. 

The long winter was finally past, and one day in 
early spring who should appear, entirely, unannounced, 
but Agnes Ward. Honey was simply beside herself 
with joy at the surprise her friend had given her. 
There was so much to talk about, for letters are al- 
ways so unsatisfactory and leave so much unsaid; 
that first night, after the manner of chums the world 
over, they lay awake and talked till the wee small 
hours. 

“Oh, it seems so good to be with you again,” cried 
Honey, giving Agnes a tight squeeze, as they started 
out next morning for a walk. They strolled along in 
the spring sunshine, their feet crunching on the gravel, 
their straight shadows falling on the white level be- 
tween the coarse fringes of wire grass. Between them 
and the woodland the breeze blew across the green, 
which was ablaze with buttercups, whose yellow heads 
assumed the effect of a brilliant tangle, spreading 
over the unploughed common and running astray in 
the grass-lined ditch that bordered the path, run- 
ning to the little grove beside the Widow Lane’s cot- 
tage. 

The girls sat down under a big tree just at the 
edge of the grove. “Honey, I don’t understand how 


68 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


you can be civil to those Federal soldiers. I hate 
them, and especially so since I saw how papa suf- 
fered from his wounds. And since he has recov- 
ered and returned to his regiment mamma has been 
nursing and helping to care for the wounded at the 
hospitals ; and I am supposed to be patient and sit 
with folded hands. It is simply terrible. How I 
wish I were a boy and could go forward with the 
army, with a musket in my hands. That would be 
something worth while.” 

The old fighting blood was in her veins. She was 
as much her father’s child as was her brother, and 
yet, while the land she loved was filled with noise 
and strife and war, she was told that she was too 
young and delicate even to go with her mother and 
nurse the sick and wounded heroes, fighting for their 
homes. The girl’s whole being rebelled against her 
enforced inactivity, and she longed for something 
useful to do. At times she felt her pulses leap, and 
a vigor that was not her own nerved her from head 
to foot with a power of ardent sacrifice. 

It was in her blood to do battle to the death for a be- 
lief, and she was made of that stern stuff that the best 
soldiers are made of ; she felt that, come what might, 
she would always stand with her people, and her voice 
was impatient as she went on: “I almost believe that 
you sympathize with the enemy, judging from the 
way you have been talking about them.” 

“Why, Agnes, how can you say such a thing to 
me? You know that I have felt the bitterest hatred 
toward them, especially since we have suffered so 
much through this war. When I came home and 
found a Yankee soldier in the house guarding my 
parents and our home I can’t tell you how I re- 
belled at first. One day I heard mother and father 
talking about the war, and father said: Tt was in 
defense of a great principle, according to their own 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


69 

interpretation, that caused the North and South to 
make war against each other.’ Do you understand 
what that means?” 

“I suppose it means that the North thinks it is 
fighting for the right as much as we do,” admitted 
Agnes reluctantly. 

“They certainly do, and they are very patriotic. 
And do you know, Agnes, one of those Yankee boys 
tried to save my dear old Shep ? Uncle Ephraim told 
me that the boy ran right in between the soldier 
and the dog and narrowly escaped injury; the soldier 
was very angry at his interference, and threatened to 
kill him. And Uncle Eph. says that when the lad 
saw that Shep was really dead he choked all up and 
turned and ran toward camp, so as not to give way, 
I reckon.” 

“Honey, I believe you are inclined to forgive the 
North because one of their soldiers tried to save 
Shep,” accused Agnes, with a little laugh. 

“No, I am not; but this boy is so young, just 
about our age, and it really was nice of him. Mother 
heard that his father is a Colonel Winston, descendant 
of a fine old Norman family, and his mother comes 
from royal stock. This boy William ran away to 
join the army, and is just a private. He was so 
patriotic that he would rather fight in the ranks than 
live in ease and luxury in London, as heir to a 
wealthy uncle’s vast fortune. I heard him telling 
Mr. Range that his sister is to be presented at court 
soon. When I learned that these people give up just 
as much as we do for what they consider a sacred 
principle, I was ashamed of my narrowness. I wish 
there never was such a thing as war, and that we 
were back in our dear old homes.” 

The tears welled up in the eyes of both as Agnes 
said, “I can close my eyes and see the lake, the 
lawn, the river and the trees at Wilston so vividly that 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


70 

I almost fancy I hear the branches of the big tree 
tapping against my window.” 

“This will never do,” cried Honey, jumping up 
and drying her eyes. “We musn’t sit here moping. 
Let’s go on and see what unconquered wilds we may 
discover.” 

As they wandered on through the new, strange 
place they discovered that it was really beautiful, 
even the old log cabin, with the clay chimney built on 
the outside, and almost hidden from view by the gourd 
vines. Being unusually fond of birds and flowers 
and trees, they knew that blessed alchemy which turns 
all things into the poetry of the moment. 

“By the way, Agnes, we’ve had so much to talk 
about I don’t believe I told you that Brother George 
was home on a few days’ leave. He was so sorry 
that he couldn’t see you to deliver the many messages 
he had for you. He said that A1 Benton talked of 
you incessantly. We heard that the Federal picket 
line was to be moved, and George had to leave because 
if he were found within the lines they could arrest him 
as a spy.” 

“Yes, Brother David told me that he was nearly 
taken prisoner on his way to see papa when he was 
wounded.” 

Presently they found themselves deep in the wood- 
land shades. The humid depths showed every sort of 
green and gray, with the tree trunks, bushes and 
boughs bearded with tangled vines. They seemed to 
have the grove to themselves, and it was very much to 
their liking. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


7 1 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE MYSTERY WAS SOLVED. 

“I wonder how far it is to Mrs. Lane’s house,” 
said Agnes. “Mamma told me that the Ring children 
are well now and are going back to their home in the 
Valley soon. I would like to see them if it is not 
too far to go there.” 

“It is only a short distance,” said Honey. “I have 
often seen them. The eldest girl, Myra, has the most 
wonderful voice.” 

The words had hardly left her lips when Agnes 
caught her hand and cried, “Listen.” From the still- 
ness close by and a little to the right there suddenly 
burst the opening notes of what seemed to them a 
divine melody. They stood with parted lips and 
surprised eyes fixed on each other. At the last note 
their gaze did not sink, but took on a glow, while out 
of the forest behind them a distant echo answered the 
last measure of the strain. They stood still as if 
wondering if the vanished strains could be a divine 
message, called and answered in that melodious uni- 
son. 

Then they turned from the path in the direction 
from which the first sounds had come and came sud- 
denly face to face with Myra Ring, walking hand in 
hand with her small brother and sister, the latter say- 
ing just as they came in sight, “Sing some more, 
Myra.” The mystery was solved, and Myra bash- 
fully acknowledged that she was the singer. 

“What a glorious voice you have,” cried Agnes. “I 
shall write to mamma about it to-night and ask her to 
send you to school to have your voice trained.” Then 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


72 

she added as if on second thought: “Would you go 
if mamma can send you?” 

The bashfulness vanished, and a great wistfulness 
and yearning leaped in Myra’s eyes — the same look 
that comes into the eyes of a starving man at the sight 
of food. She clasped her hands and cried, “Oh, if you 
knew how I have longed for the opportunity to study 
music. But I don’t know whether mamma could spare 
me. 

That evening Agnes went to her room early to write 
to her mother, and when Honey came in she said : 
“William Winston was just here. He heard Myra 
singing this afternoon, and he says he stood spellbound, 
wondering if it were an angel singing. He is going to 
write his mother and ask her to contribute toward a 
fund for Myra’s musical training. He came over to 
return some books father loaned him, and he says they 
break camp to-morrow morning early. He was terribly 
excited and looking forward to a fight. Isn’t it dread- 
ful to think that such a nice boy, who has been so 
friendly and kind, is on the other side? I hope that 
he and George will never meet in battle.” 

“Well, at any rate, I’m mighty glad they are going,” 
said Agnes. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE DAY’S MARCH. 

In the gray dawn tents were struck, and several 
days’ rations were issued with marching orders. The 
air was in anguish with the din of hoarse shouting 
of the company officers and the voices of the men, 
each asking unanswerable questions of his neighbor, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


73 

as they went stalking back and forth like gigantic 
shadows. 

“Where are we going?” asks one. 

“It looks as if we’d gobble up Lee before night,” 
says another. And still another, with the air of one 
who has definite information to impart, announces : “I 
heard that the scouts have brought in word during 
the night that the Confederate Army was crossing the 
Potomac and we must watch their movements.” 

William packed his knapsack with trembling hands 
and nervously strapped it on. Then he swung his 
canteen over his shoulders and carefully tightened his 
belt. His face was flushed, and when he spoke his 
voice quavered with emotion. It seemed to him that 
the delay of every moment was a reckless waste of 
time, and he trembled at the thought that the enemy 
might be preparing to fall upon them unawares. 

Unable to stand the suspense any longer, he said, 
impatiently : 

“I say, Henry, why on earth don’t we start?” 

Henry turned and saw the boy all ready for the 
march. “Why, William, come over here and eat your 
breakfast. You won’t get very far on an empty 
stomach.” 

William drank his coffee, standing up and glancing 
eagerly about every minute for the first move at the 
front. He thought of the excitement he felt at the 
meet when he went with his uncle and Nell to see 
the hounds and the horses. And he remembered viv- 
idly the childish thrill with which he had often looked 
up at the engraving of a battle scene at the Maples. 
There were prancing horses, dramatic gestures of 
the officers and the blur of waving flags and naked 
swords. That was war as he had pictured it, and he 
thought of the end to which he and his comrades 
should presently be marching, where they should play 
heroic parts. The suppressed excitement of the meet 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


74 

was upon him, and the hoarse voices of the officers 
thrilled him as if they were the baying of the hounds, 
eager for the chase. 

Finally he heard the musical jingle of moving cav- 
alry, the hurried tread of many feet in the soft dust, 
and the smothered oaths of men who stumbled. At 
last the long column was moving forward under flut- 
tering flags, past the long blue shadows ; with the music 
of the bands and the clatter of the canteens, on it went 
into the white dust and the early sunshine. 

As it passed through the streets of a village, women 
with startled eyes ran from open doors into the gardens 
and watched over the hedges. The negroes stood with 
uncovered heads as the long blue line swept out upon 
the turnpike and went down the broad road through 
the smooth green fields, where already the sunshine 
lay like melted gold. 

William looked up into the blue sky across the open 
meadows and then down the long road, where the 
dust hung in a cloud. In the bright sunshine he saw 
the flash of steel and the glitter of gold braid ; and the 
noise of tramping feet cheered him like the music as he 
walked on gaily, filled with visions of his own imagi- 
nation. Was he not marching to the end he had so 
longed for — to victory in this great struggle to pro- 
tect the union — the preservation of which he had been 
taught was the main prop of our liberty ? 

As he marched along so blithely the lad suddenly re- 
called the scene where the men in blue passed by in 
their train and his father was left to return home, a 
physical wreck. He wished his father could see him 
now, on the way to fill the vacant place to the best of 
his ability. 

Colonel Winston’s blood ran warm through many 
generations from his old Norman ancesters down to 
the present time, and his fine ardor and patriotism 
had caused him to respond to his country’s call in 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


75 

the Mexican War and again at the first call in this 
crisis. Father and son were alike ; both felt that a 
life was a little thing to give to their country. The 
boy’s patriotism appealed to him above all else, and 
the ardor which had sent him into the ranks had 
sprung from an inward pressure. The sound of the 
bugle, the fluttering flags, the flash of steel all stirred 
his pulses with noble resolves. 

These things were in his blood by right of heritage, 
and he was blessed with that power of ardent sacrifice 
which lies beneath all shams in a true and brave heart. 
He felt that no endurance would be too great, no 
hope too large, with which to serve the cause. 

He was suddenly recalled to his present surround- 
ings by the realization that his company had burst into 
song, and the refrain was one he had composed him- 
self ; being the pet of the regiment, his little com- 
position had become very popular with the men. 

“We are coming, Father Abraham, 

A million freemen more; 

From Mississippi’s winding stream, 

And from New England’s shore. 

“We leave our ploughs and workshops, 

Our wives and children dear, 

With hearts too full for utterance. 

With but a single tear. 

“We will not look behind us. 

But steadfastly before; 

We are coming, Father Abraham, 

A million freemen more.” 

As the afternoon lengthened the heat grew oppres- 
sive. Straight ahead there was dust and the ceaseless 
tramping, and on either side the fresh fields were 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


76 

scorched and whitened by the powdering of white 
sand. Beyond the rise and dip of the hills the moun- 
tains burned like blue flames on the horizon. 

William had begun to lag. His accoutrements were 
heavy, and he was just a boy after all. Henry Lacey 
relieved the boy of his gun, but his senses were blunted 
by the hot sand, which filled his eyes and ears and 
nostrils. There was a shimmer over all the broad land- 
scape. 

The day was closing gradually, and as they neared 
the river the mountains emerged from their obscure 
outlines into wooded heights upon which the trees 
showed soft gray in the sunset. 

They paused for a few moments to inhale the cool 
breeze that came to them through the strip of damp 
woodland where the sycamores were festooned with 
luxuriant vines. From the twilight long shadows 
stretched across the red clay road. Then as they went 
down a rocky slope a fringe of willows appeared from 
the blur of green, and they saw the Rappahannock 
with the colors of the sunset floating like brightly 
colored flowers upon its breast. 

With a great shout the men plunged into the wil- 
lows along the river bank where they bivouacked for 
the night. In a very short time all was silent. The 
tramp of tired feet had ceased; all were glad to rest 
their aching limbs. William awoke from a restless 
sleep at the first peep of dawn, and lay there listening 
and drinking in the sweet morning air. The only 
sound that reached him was the soft lapping of small 
waves upon the shore. The keen smell of the syca- 
mores drifted to him from the bank close by. 

The sun was high and the camp was astir when 
Henry awoke. Turning over to speak to William, he 
saw that his place was empty. Just then Jack put his 
head into the tent and asked if he had heard that there 
had been a fierce battle a little way from the opposite 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


77 

bank of the river a very short time before. Henry 
hustled out to hear more about it, and every one felt 
that fate was decidedly against them that they should 
arrive too late to take part in this latest encounter with 
the enemy. 

“Oh, well, I suppose we’ll be in the thickest of the 
next battle to make up for missing this one,” said 
Henry, who always tried to cheer up the rest. He 
turned suddenly to Jack, “Have you seen that young 
rascal, William, this morning?” 

“No, I haven’t had a glimpse of him. Do you know 
that Sutton has a grudge against the boy? He is 
always making threats. I suppose it is on account of 
the killing of Stair’s dog, although William never 
told who did the shooting. It was Mr. Stair who re- 
ported the matter. When Sutton heard that William 
had been made sergeant he was furious.” 

“Isn’t that contemptible? I don’t see that it con- 
cerns him in any way,” said Henry. “Of course, Wil- 
liam is young to be an officer, but that is the reason 
he is such a general favorite with the officers and men. 
He is such a daring, fearless little imp. He has had 
so many privileges since he gave the information 
that led to the capture and conviction of those fellows 
who attempted to jump their bounty. That was a 
clever piece of work, all right ; but I should like to 
know what the boy is up to this morning.” 

Both men exclaimed at the same moment, “There he 
is now !” And they ran down to the river bank, where 
Mr. William stood on the rocky edge, hurriedly put- 
ting on his clothes. 

“Hello!” he called jubilantly. “I’ve got some to- 
bacco for you, Henry; and some Richmond papers. 
Here, read about the battle while I put my shoes on.” 

“Do you mean to tell me that you have been over 
in the enemy’s camp? Weren’t you afraid of being 
taken prisoner?” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


78 

“Nope. I was pretty chilled, though, after swim- 
ming across the river so early. So they wrapped a 
blanket around me and we chatted a while ; then I 
exchanged my coffee and sugar and Washington 
papers for tobacco and Richmond papers. When they 
heard the officer of the day coming they said: ‘Yank, 
you’d better get back across the river,’ so I tied my 
package on my head, got into the river very quietly, 
and here I am.” 

“You re awfully reckless, youngster, to take such 
chances; but thanks just the same for the tobacco. 
You’d better run and get some breakfast; we’ll be 
starting before long,” said Henry. As William skipped 
away Henry turned to Jack, “That young rascal did 
that just for the fun of it ; he knew we’d get the Rich- 
mond papers by noon anyway.” 

William was hurriedly gulping his hot coffee as the 
head of the column went forward into the distance, 
and with aching limbs he hastened his steps to over- 
take Henry and Jack. 

“Say, kid,” they cried, as he joined them, “Stone- 
wall Jackson has been killed. These papers you brought 
over tell all about it.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE FIRST OF JULY. 

'‘This is certainly the prosiest place I ever saw,” 
said Agnes impatiently. “If I have to watch here for 
mamma much longer I really don’t know what I shall 
do. I’ve been watching for her for two days now, and 
I don’t know which road she will come on; do you 
know that there are ten roads coming into this little 
town ?” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


79 

“Surely there aren’t that many, Agnes,” said Honey 
incredulously. 

“Yes, there are; I’ve counted them several times.” 

The girls were sitting on a little whitewashed porch 
where they could view the surrounding country. The 
wheat had just been harvested, and the rolling, well- 
tilled fields showed by the thick standing shocks of 
yellow sheaves how joyfully the earth had laughed 
with a bountiful harvest. 

Like all agricultural centers, this little town in 
southern Pennsylvania was exceedingly dull and peace- 
ful. People who tend strictly to their own business 
cannot help being regarded as quite dull by outsiders ; 
the even tenor of their ways is usually broken by no 
more exciting episode than the annual disposal of the 
crops and the opening of the planting season in the 
ensuing year. A protracted meeting affords unusual 
excitement, and the church socials are the most exhil- 
arating events of the whole year. 

The thrifty German dissenters who had migrated 
to this country to avoid persecution had a keen and 
unerring scent for rich land. They found it in abun- 
dance here. Next to their religion, these people be- 
lieved most devoutly in the gospel of hard work and 
thrift. They put all their energy into making their 
farms models in producing great crops and fine stock. 

“All these ridges running parallel with the great 
uplift of the Blue Ridge remind me of a high ocean 
wave with parallels of smaller waves,” said Agnes, as 
she gazed off into the distance. The scene recalled 
vividly a storm at sea where the waves rolled higher 
and higher until it seemed inevitable that the ship 
would be engulfed. 

At that moment there was an unusual commotion 
in the village, which nestled between two of the ridges. 
There were about three thousand souls — merchants, 
professional men, and others — dependent upon the rich 


8o 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


surrounding country for their livelihood. The sub- 
stantial character of the modest dwellings and build- 
ings showed habits of thought brought across the 
ocean from Germany. They were constructed mostly 
of brick or limestone with brick basements, and every- 
thing about them was plain but very solid and en- 
during. 

The June sun shone out upon the billowy acres, 
where the plodding farmers drove their teams afield, 
knowing little of battle storms raging in Virginia. 
Little had they felt of the spasms of agony which were 
cramping the people’s hearts, although they had sent 
their quota of stalwart youths into the Union army. 
It was all as far removed from them as if they had 
been across the ocean. But now they were thrown into 
the wildest excitement by ragged, dust-grimed.veterans 
who were tramping through their streets. War and 
rumors of war seemed to come from every direction; 
the whole country was swarming with the enemy. 

Two Confederate soldiers passed quietly through 
the gate and had almost reached the porch before the 
girls, who were craning their necks in the direction of 
the town, saw them. They rushed to them, and each 
girl threw her arms around her brother. 

“How glad we are to see you! How is your arm, 
David ?” asked Agnes, drawing away from her brother 
to anxiously look him over. 

“My arm is all right,” replied David indifferently. 
“It was only a scratch in the first place. There was 
no necessity of even telling mamma about it.” 

“The messenger arrived late in the evening after 
we had arranged to stay at this farmhouse for a while, 
and mamma rushed right off that night and wouid not 
take us with her. She said it would be much better 
for us to remain here until she returned.” 

“It seems so good to see our own soldiers again!” 
cried Honey, clinging to her brother’s arm and giving 


WILLIAM WNSTON 81 

him little joyful pats every moment, as though to make 
sure that he was really there. 

“Look, look ! Every place is swarming with them !” 
All four beamed with the joy and pride they felt when 
they saw Lee’s army being reinforced by incoming 
strong divisions. George Stair stood silently watching 
the passing throng. 

He turned to David, as he said, “I reckon the re- 
port must be true that every man who could possibly 
be gathered in has been sent here to strengthen Lee 
for the crushing blow which it is hoped will end the 
war.” 

“Yes,” said David; “it looks that way. Cheer up, 
girls. We’ll capture the enemy’s Capital in a few 
days — and then we’ll all celebrate the Fourth of July 
together. That reminds me ; mamma said you girls 
must be ready to start early in the morning. She is 
going to take you both back to Washington. She ex- 
pected to be here before this, but A1 Benton’s horse 
fell short in leaping a ditch and injured Al’s foot that 
was hurt so badly at the battle of Chancellorsville. 
Mamma took him into her carriage and drove very 
slowly until the ambulance overtook them.” 

It was almost noon when Mrs. Ward’s carriage 
stopped at the gate. Honey and Agnes, who had been 
waiting for hours, scarcely had time to get seated when 
they were violently jerked by the spirited horses leap- 
ing forward, as if pursued by some relentless foe. The 
animals seemed to scent some approaching danger. 

“We thought you were never coming, mamma,” 
gasped Agnes breathlessly, holding onto her hat with 
one hand and clutching the seat with the other. 

“I’m sorry to have kept you in suspense so long, 
dear; but your father was unexpectedly detained at 
General Lee’s quarters this morning and I had to 
wait until he returned.” 

As they drove through the village streets they no- 


82 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


ticed that the most intense excitement prevailed, and 
suddenly their cheeks paled as they saw a magnificent 
division of Union cavalry coming toward them on the 
next street. Their driver had the utmost difficulty in 
pulling his horses to one side, where they stood quiver- 
ing and prancing. The men and horses passing them 
were gaunt and thin from their long campaign. Mrs. 
Ward and the girls silently watched the enemy as they 
swept through the streets of the little town and then 
westward in search of the Confederates. 

Things were happening every hour, and the men 
and women in the quiet little village were filled with 
consternation. The sights and sounds, so unaccus- 
tomed, that were crowding upon them made many fear 
that the “day of wrath and the day of burning” was 
about to be ushered in. 

Suddenly the report of a cannon rang out like a 
terrible crash of thunder. The girls clutched Mrs. 
Ward in terror, while from behind the grove near 
them a distant echo answered the terrible sound. Agnes 
clasped her hands, and in her heart prayed fervently 
for the success of their army and for the safety of 
father and brother; while she trembled from head to 
foot with a physical chill, as if she feared that the 
vanishing sound was the death-knell of.a lost cause. 

Upon reaching the top of Cemetery Ridge, each one 
turned toward the west ; and there in a wheat field they 
could see the men in blue and the men in grey facing 
each other. The cannon shot, which had startled them 
so, was the first fired at the Battle of Gettysburg. 

The deafening sound and clash of arms reached 
them as a faint sigh, ever farther and farther in their 
rear, as the carriage rushed onward through a cloud 
of dust. Each was silent, and with clasped hands 
prayed to the Great Supreme Warrior to draw His 
mighty sword in defense of the Confederacy. 

A sudden turn in the road unexpectedly brought to 


WILLIAM WINSTON 83 

their view a whole regiment of Federal soldiers, only 
a short distance away, at the edge of a stretch of 
woods. The smoke was curling upward from many 
fires ; the men were preparing their noonday meal. 

Honey gazed out at them a moment and then ex- 
claimed excitedly: “Why, that is the regiment that 
had its winter camp so near our house ! I see William 
Winston right over there.” 

Agnes flushed angrily. How could Honey be inter- 
ested in those people at such a time ; and would she 
ever stop talking about that William Winston, or what- 
ever his name was ? Just then the trees hid them from 
view, and only a faint line of smoke was visible when 
the carriage stopped in front of a beautiful home in 
the suburbs of Emmitsburg. 


CHAPTER XVI. 
william's first battle. 

The long column had stopped to rest and make 
coffee. Jack Lloyd and Henry Lacey stood in the 
sweltering shade of a cotton wood near the roadside, 
and William had thrown himself down on the grass, 
completely exhausted after the long march made that 
morning in the hot sun. Jack and Henry were esti- 
mating the distance they had marched since their start 
at early dawn, and finally agreed that it was twenty- 
five miles. 

William said wearily, “I know you fellows are mak- 
ing a mistake ; I’m sure it was forty.” 

The others laughed. “You’re dreaming,” said Jack. 
“But cheer up, kid; this is the first of July, and our 
nine months will be up on the third. You’ll have 
plenty of time to rest then.” 

The youngster stretched himself and got up. “I’m 


WILLIAM WINSTON \ 


84 

going to re-enlist right away, so I guess there won’t 
be much resting, from the looks of things now.” 

“Good for you!” cried Henry, clapping him on the 
shoulder with a resounding slap. “That’s good spunk.” 

At that moment an aide reigned in his breathless, 
foam-lathered horse, and informed Colonel Stanard 
that General Reynolds had been killed at Gettysburg, 
about ten miles to the west. In little more than a 
moment the order was given, “Fall in; forward, dou- 
ble-quick, march!” and the men drank their coffee on 
the run. 

Two hours later they were occupying a hill known 
as Little Round Top, and to the left of the troops en- 
gaged with the enemy. Weary and footsore after a 
thirty-five-mile march in a broiling July sun, the men 
lay on the ground, completely exhausted. William felt 
numb, and his senses were blunted by the extreme 
heat. 

An order was given in an affectionate voice some- 
where along the line. William shuddered and gripped 
his musket. Then he said the words over nervously: 
“Keep cool, men ; don’t fire until you can see the 
whites of the enemy’s eyes ; fire low, not above the 
knees.” Amazecl and horrified, the boy sat up, won- 
dering if he could possibly have been dreaming. No; 
there were all his comrades with whom he had drilled 
so long, and now they were told to shoot at people’s 
knees. To William this moment was as the anguish 
of a new birth, in which the thing to be born suffered 
the throes of awakening life ; at last he was face to 
face with a real battle. This was the supreme test 
that would prove the stuff that had gone into the 
making of him. When this battle lay behind him he 
should know himself to be either a soldier or a coward. 
“A soldier or a coward.” He said the words over and 
over again as he struggled to overcome the sickening 
fear that had seized his whole being. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 85 

A great victory had to be won before encountering 
the enemy. Should he lay down his arms, or go 
bravely forward and offer his life in the struggle to 
defeat the enemy that would tear down the flag of the 
Union? The honest impulse of true patriotism in the 
boy’s heart gave him courage and finally conquered 
his fear. Sitting there watching for the enemy, he fell 
into that peculiar mental state which comes only after 
an inward struggle that has laid bare the sinews of 
the soul. William had fought the good fight to the 
end. The old doubt and mistrust of himself and his 
own strength had fallen from him. The fear had van- 
ished, and in its place was the exulting joy of a vic- 
tory won. 

Suddenly he saw three lines of the enemy’s army 
coming out of the woods and advancing straight to- 
ward them to take their hill. Seeing the new uni- 
forms, the Confederates thought it would be an easy 
matter to crush the raw troops, then turn the left flank 
of the Union army. This would leave the road to 
Baltimore and Washington open before them. 

William stood with his musket in position, hardly 
daring to breathe, every muscle tense, as they waited 
to carry out their orders literally. The beautiful lines 
in grey, advancing so confidently, were suddenly met 
with a terrible fire from the Vermonters that mowed 
them down in appalling numbers. 

Three times in two hours they charged in the awful 
carnage to gain, if human courage and endurance 
could make it, the possession of Little Round Top; 
and each time the Vermonters opened that fearful fire. 
It was not until the shadows of evening, thickening 
fast, forced an end to this terrible fight that the Ver- 
mont Brigade was moved one mile to the right. 

Upon reaching this point, which was later known as 
the Bloody Angle, they encountered a fierce struggle 
between one of the Union Corps and the enemy. The 


86 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


Confederates had captured a battery, and four com- 
panies of the Vermont Brigade were ordered to charge. 
They rushed forward and engaged in a fierce hand-to- 
hand fight. In the dim light it was difficult to dis- 
tinguish friend from foe ; but on they fought with 
sabres, pistols, bayonets ; each man with one fixed idea 
— to go back with those captured guns. At last the 
enemy began to give way, and in a few moments the 
heart-rending struggle was over. The Vermont boys 
were once more victorious, and back they came with 
the six guns. 

Then the order was given, “Lie down and rest for 
the night.” Arms were stacked and the men lay down 
where they stood, too tired even to eat. 

Next morning all were up bright and early. The 
Vermonters were being shelled quite heavily by the 
enemy's artillery, but they were not actively engaged 
during the day. They lay on their arms in readiness, 
expecting that their point of the line would be at- 
tacked at any moment, as the infantry was engaged on 
both their right and left. 

A group of men sat playing cards, carelessly joking, 
while the shells whizzed and screamed over their heads. 
Jack Lloyd sat watching the game for a few moments ; 
then, turning, he saw William lying behind a rock, 
reading. He joined the youngster, saying: “Hello, 
there kid! How are you feeling after all the excite- 
ment ?” 

“I'm all right ; but I've never been so scared in my 
life as I was over something that happened to me last 
night. I nudged the man next to me and told him to 
roll over, that he was crowding me. He didn’t pay any 
attention, and I got up finally to see what was the 
matter. Think I must have jumped ten feet, and all 
the blood in my body ran cold. I'd been sleeping be- 
side a corpse ; a shell had taken ofif the whole top of 
the poor fellow’s head !” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


8 7 

“Isn’t it terrible to hear the wounded of both armies 
calling for water out there between the lines!” said 
Jack. 

“It’s awful !” And William shuddered at the thought 
of such terrible suffering. “But the firing is so heavy 
nobody can get out there. It seems dreadful to think 
that if any one dared to go out there to relieve those 
poor fellows they would almost be sure to get shot.” 

“Who would get shot?” asked Henry Lacey, stroll- 
ing up to them. “Not you, William. I have a firm 
belief that you' have a charmed life.” 

Just then they heard cheer after cheer ring along 
the battlefield on both sides, and the firing ceased. 
Looking in the direction of the cheering, they saw the 
Sisters of Charity from Emmitsburg, who had come 
out on horses with kegs of water, going along between 
the lines and ministering to the wounded of both 
armies. Not a shot was fired for a mile on either side 
of them. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE THIRD DAY. 

On the morning of the third all was quiet in front 
of the Vermont Brigade; there was heavy artillery 
firing to the right. It was, however, merely a lull 
before a terrible storm that would soon break forth 
with renewed fury. At one o’clock one hundred and 
fifteen Confederate cannons opened a rapid fire, aim- 
ing chiefly at Cemetery Ridge, where every size and 
form of shell shrieked, whirled, moaned, whistled and 
wrathfully tore over the ground. As many as six in a 
second, constantly two a second, burst and screamed 
so rapidly that the noise and the fire was appalling. 

The life of every living thing near the point of 
attack was endangered. A hundred national guns re- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


plied, and for two hours the thunder of more than 
two hundred cannons shook Gettysburg and the sur- 
rounding country with their fearful detonations. 

Then, like a stream of fiery lava, the Confederate 
infantry, in three lines of battle, swept swiftly over 
the undulating plain, threatening to consume every- 
thing in its track. Pickett, with his famous division 
of thirteen thousand picked veterans, led the van. It 
was a sight to cause the bravest hearts of the most 
seasoned veterans to grow faint. 

Yet the raw troops of the Vermont Brigade, con- 
spicuous with their new uniforms, remained at their 
post in the front of the line of battle, as calmly as old 
warriors, breathlessly watching the spectacular and 
magnificent courage displayed by those brave Amer- 
icans. 

The men of the North had longed for an oppor- 
tunity to meet the Johnnies face to face on an open 
field and on equal terms, instead of behind formidable 
and almost insurmountable defenses. Here was the 
grandest sight that a brave soldier could ever hope to 
behold. Those gallant veterans, flower of the Confed- 
erate Army, advanced as coolly as if they were going 
out on dress parade. The National artillery opened 
such a terrific fire on them as soon as they appeared 
that gaps of threes, fours and fives were cut down all 
along the line. Yet they closed up the gaps and 
marched on with touched elbows. 

Each one of the Vermonters took a tight grip on his 
gun, and waited with a set purpose and grim deter- 
mination depicted on each countenance. Finally the 
enemy’s bugle sounded the charge. Then it seemed 
that all the demons of the infernal regions were turned 
loose with the fearful roar of musketry and artillery. 
The Vermonters literally mowed the front line away. 
It seemed impossible for one to escape certain death 
in that terrible rain of lead and iron. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 89 

The enemy’s line wavered for an instant, and then 
they moved to the left oblique, where there was a sharp 
angle in the line on the right of the Vermont Brigade. 
As they passed, Stanard’s men double-quicked to the 
flank and rear of Pickett’s men and again opened that 
destructive fire. This move, made spontaneously by 
the men, without orders from any one, at last broke 
the enemy’s spirit. In just a few moments twenty-five 
hundred of them were prisoners and twelve battle flags 
were captured with them. 

When the prisoners were being taken to the rear, 
out of the line of fire, some of them called out, “Dog- 
gone you all raw Yanks; you fight like old vets! We 
calculated to annihilate you all and win an easy vic- 
tory.” 

William Winston came upon a group of privates 
who were demanding a Confederate general’s surren- 
der. He seemed dazed after the terrible loss of his 
men, and still held his naked sword in his hand. Ser- 
geant Winston stepped up with a dignity that would 
have done credit to a Lieutenant-General and said: 
“General, your sword, please.” 

The general handed him his sword without a word. 

Then the boy said: “And the scabbard, please.” 
That also was given in silence. Then he conducted the 
general to his colonel, presented him, saluted, and re- 
turned to his company, which had just been relieved 
and sent to the rear. 

He showed the beautiful sword to Henry and Jack 
with the greatest pride imaginable. “I’m going to 
keep it as a trophy of our great victory. I swan, 
boys,” he cried, a moment later, “there are only three 
cartridges left in my box, and I had sixty when we 
encountered the enemy. Great Caesar, it’s no wonder 
we annihilated those in front of us !” 

“Yes, it was short; but it was terribly fierce while it 
lasted,” said Henry. 


90 WILLIAM WINSTON 

“It was all over in half an hour, wasn’t it?” 
asked Jack. 

Early the next morning a detail of the Vermont 
Brigade was ordered out as skirmishers. Lee’s 
army was nowhere in sight. They had retreated 
during the night, leaving their wounded on the 
battlefield. 

The National Hospital Corps was on the field, 
ministering to friend and foe alike. For three days 
there had been innumerable murderous . assaults, 
and still more murderous repulses ; three days in the 
space between the lines lay the dead and wounded, 
suffering untold agonies in the scorching July heat. 
This was the first opportunity to care for those who 
were still living, and to bury the dead. 

The sight was one too awful to be described. The 
brutal side of war was presented to William in its 
enormity as they crossed that dreadful field, where 
men were calling in faint voices of despair for 
water, and the ghastly faces of those too weak to 
speak asked pitifully for help. It all remained in 
William’s memory to haunt him as he went for- 
ward, expecting at any moment to encounter the 
enemy again. 

Coming into a small stretch of woods, they sud- 
denly heard the order to halt. As the column 
came up, each fell in line with his own company, 
and in a few moments they were marching rapidly 
in pursuit. The sun was now high in the heavens, 
and William felt as he went forward with the col- 
umn that he was escaping to freedom after the 
horror of the last three days. 

“Thank God, we’ve passed that heart-rending 
scene !” 

“Ah, Jack, it was pitiable to see the Confederates 
mowed down so ruthlessly, but such is war.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


9i 

I shall never forget it to my dying day,” he remarked 
to Jack Lloyd. 

They were soon panting for breath as they rapidly 
climbed the mountainous road in the burning sun. 

The Vermont nine-months’ men’s tim£ had expired 
on the third of July, but they had had no thought of 
leaving while there was a chance for a battle. After 
two days there was a halt ; no trace of the enemy had 
been found, and there was no indication of a fight, so 
the Vermonters were relieved. 

They fell out of line and stood at the side of the 
road, and as the army passed all cheered their com- 
rades who had that morning received special praise in 
an order issued by General Meade and read before the 
army, thanking them for their magnificent courage and 
bravery in facing the flower of the Confederate army 
and showing the strategy of seasoned veterans in 
moving to the enemy’s flank and rear without even 
an order. 

There was a call for volunteers to re-enlist, and 
William, Henry and Jack were among the first to 
answer the call. They were assigned to the Third Ver- 
mont. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A FURLOUGH. 

It was all so natural — the gaiety, the ardor and the 
invincible dash of this young army — so like the spirit 
of the Green Mountain Boys of old! Their friends 
had been vieing with each other to do honor to the 
brave boys who had come home for a short furlough 
after winning such honors for themselves and their 
State. 

After making the longest march on record in the 
annals of war, they repulsed three murderous assaults 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


92 

and held the key of the position in the greatest battle 
of the war. Had the enemy broken the Union line at 
this point, they would have divided the Union army in 
half and the turnpike road would have been open be- 
fore them to the Capital. 

With nothing of the profession of arms save that 
born in them, these men were fighters, not by training 
or nature, but by the honest impulse of true patriotism, 
which accounts for the magnificent spectacle presented 
at Gettysburg, the greatest battle in the world’s his- 
tory, where the eyes of the world looked on in amaze- 
ment. 

These were not soldiers who were drilled to respond 
to commands like machines. But deeply rooted in the 
breast of each American citizen is the pledge of life, 
fortune and sacred honor to the truth that all men 
are created equal and that they are endowed by their 
Creator with certain inalienable rights. It was fidelity 
to this oath, sacred as life itself, that made each indi- 
vidual soldier a hero, having the divine courage, in- 
spired by a high and noble purpose. 

Thus raw troops faced seasoned veterans, each with 
the same invincible courage ; men of the same mettle 
encountered each other. Hence the results of the 
great battle were due not so much to military strategy 
as to the intelligent courage and splendid heroism of 
brave soldiers. 

It was not love of adventure that urged these men 
to leave home and family and stand the severe expos- 
ures and deprivations of war under the Stars and 
Stripes. It was an impulse that no people had ever 
felt before. It was a sense of justice that was early 
kindled in the American heart with the first tidings 
that this nation would champion the cause of liberty 
and true manhood. 

William, rising early for a gallop across country, 
felt the dew in his face and the autumn in his blood. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


93 

As he dashed over fences and ditches to the un- 
ploughed pasture the morning was as quiet as mid- 
night. Not a soul showed in the surrounding fields, 
and the long road lay as pallid as a streak of frost. 
The loneliness of the hour seemed to emphasize his 
own feelings during his short stay at the Maples. 
Not even a letter had come from the loved ones, who 
were still far away in London. It had been too lonely, 
and after a few days he went over to Henry’s to visit. 

The brisk pace sent the glad blood bounding through 
his veins. When a startled rabbit shied from the 
brushwood he would slacken his speed to watch it, and 
all the while he was whistling or humming a gay tune. 
At times William was possessed of a spirit, perhaps 
too elastic, of a buoyancy almost insolent. His dreams 
were mostly of the dim future, though he also clove 
to the past ; to the rare associations and the old affec- 
tions — the road, the lake, and the Maples, as to the 
men and women whose blood he bore. 

Riding home along the open road that led past the 
Maples, he marked each friendly object in its turn. 
There stood the blasted oak, with the lake gleaming 
down there below it, and beyond the shining spread 
of silver the mountains towered in all their old-time 
stateliness. There on the other side stretched the 
grove, and then the orchard where the fruit ripened. 

He turned in at the great gate, rode up the avenue, 
and leaped to the ground by the kitchen door. 

“Good-morning, Jenson!” he called. “Is there any 
mail ?” 

When he heard the negative reply all the laughter 
left his face. “I certainly hope I get a letter this after- 
noon or in the morning. We leave for Washington 
to-morrow.” 

Jenson’s startled “Do tell!” made the boy’s eyes 
twinkle mischievously. “I just told you, Jenson.” 

The good woman paid no heed to the boy’s face- 


94 


WILLIAM WINSTON. 


tiousness. “Oh, William, I do wish you’d go back to 
London and go to school like you should ! It’s awful 
for a boy like you to go to war.” 

“I’ve re-enlisted, Jenson, and I’m going back to the 
front. Nothing would keep me away now.” He 
vaulted into the saddle and waved his hand good-bye. 
“Be sure to have a letter for me, Jenson, when I come 
back.” 

Henry and Jennie were walking slowly along the 
road toward the lake when William rode out of the 
gate at the Maples, and he waved his hat at them. 
Jennie had a suspicious moisture about her eyes, and 
she was just saying, “Do you really have to go to- 
morrow ?” 

Henry pretended not to hear her question as he 
waved back at William and remarked with elaborate 
carelessness : “I don’t think William is going to the 
party given in our honor to-night. He is so bashful. 
He said he would rather face a battery than ask a girl 
to dance.” 

“Oh, I guess he’ll go, all right ! I was teasing him 
about being so bashful, and dared him to take four 
dances with me. I was never so surprised in my life 
as I was when he said : 'All right, I’ll take four dances 
with you; and please don’t forget to save that many 
for me.’ ” 

“Well, I swan!” cried Henry, with a laugh. “You 
managed to strike the boy’s vulnerable point. He de- 
clared to me that he would not go, but he will never 
let a dare pass him. Do you remember the time he 
was almost run over by a train when Roy dared him 
to cross the trestle?” 

Jennie laughed. “Indeed, I do remember. And 
what a time we had with the two dripping rascals after 
you boys had pulled them out of the lake! It seems 
funny now ; but we were pretty frightened at the time.” 

Then they fell to talking of the plans of the future 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


95 

and how lonely it would be for little Jennie when her 
big, brave Henry had gone back to the horrible war 
’way down there in Virginia; and there we’ll leave 
them to themselves. 

The train was crowded with the boys in blue, and 
they were speeding rapidly away, each moment adding 
to the distance between them and their friends and 
dear ones. It was not until the peaks of the Green 
Mountains had completely faded from view that Wil- 
liam finally turned from the window. 

Jenson had brought his long-expected letter when 
she came to the train to say good-bye, and now he 
turned to read it. When he had finished a sadness set- 
tled on his face, and he sat very still, gazing through 
the car window with unseeing eyes. 

“1 suppose you’re very happy after getting your let- 
ter,” said Henry ; and then, noticing the expression on 
the boy’s face, asked solicitously: “How is your 
father ?” 

“He is no better.” And to avoid further questioning 
the boy handed the letter to Henry to read for himself, 
which was in part as follows : 


“The Hospital,, 
“London, August — , 1863. 

“My Dear Son : 

“It was indeed a sad disappointment to us not to be 
home to welcome our brave boy. Your father’s con- 
tinued illness prevented our coming home in time to 
be with you during your furlough, and that made the 
disappointment doubly hard to bear. 

“We have been reading all about the glorious vic- 
tory at Gettysburg. You were very modest not to tell 
us about your regiment receiving special praise. Your 
father said that you deserved special praise, as it was 
your first battle. Men with such courage must feel 
the joy that is felt only by those who experience the 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


9 6 

expanding and uplifting power of a lofty purpose. 
Noble deeds live on, clothed with new influence — 
patriots in future ages will revere the memory of those 
brave heroes. Their posterity to the end of time will 
proudly boast of being the descendants of the men 
who offered their lives as a willing sacrifice to save 
the Union. 

“Your father’s one continual prayer is that God will 
spare him to see the Union supreme once more. I feel 
that it will be supreme and that a high destiny is re- 
served for the American nation; yes, the highest of 
all on this earth, when men will be judged by what 
they are and what they do, and not by what they have. 

“Remember, my son, to be vigilant and pray without 
ceasing, and strive ever to govern your actions sternly, 
justly. I need not add above all serve your country, as 
you have inherited the patriotic spirit of your father. 

“I long to be near you ; I would give much if I could 
alleviate the suffering of the wounded. In spirit I am 
with you, and my constant prayer is that God will pro- 
tect my boy and bring him back safe after winning a 
glorious victory over the enemies of our country. 

“Nell is writing a letter to inclose with this one. I 
will send a check next week for the little girl you spoke 
of ; I believe you said she must be an angel, or at least 
that she was divinely blessed with the most marvelous 
voice you ever heard. I hope her mother will be able 
to spare her, so that she can have her voice cultivated. 
She must surely have a fortune in her voice, judging 
from your description. 

“I hope your father will be sufficiently improved so 
that we can start home next month.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


97 


CHAPTER XIX. 

CAPTURING A FLAG. 

The place was pathless ; only in two directions could 
one see farther than a few yards. Through one nar- 
row opening came an intolerable glare of sunlight 
from a broad sheet of gliding water, while by another 
break in the motionless foliage could be seen the tawny 
flood of the Rappahannock, with open fields stretch- 
ing back from the farther shore. 

The cavalry was dismounted and sent out to recon- 
noitre. They encountered the enemy’s pickets, who 
quickly retreated within the walls of the fort ; and the 
cavalry men withdrew to the silent bivouac of the 
Federal troops. 

The next day, and the next, the same men were or- 
dered out, and they drove in the enemy’s pickets and 
withdrew as usual. On the second day some of the 
infantry men went out to get a good view of the 
manoeuvre. The woods swept around on one side; 
across the highway was a stretch of specially well- 
tilled farm land. 

After going some distance along the turnpike, they 
came in full view of the fort, where the Confederate 
flag was waving in the breeze. William turned away 
from the scene with a set look on his face, as if dazed 
by the sight. 

Jack slapped him on the shoulder. “What are you 
dreaming about, Mr. Sobersides? Come along; we 
must get back to camp before dark or we won’t be able 
to find the way.” 

Leaving the road, they hurried along as the darken- 
ing shadows grew deeper and blacker, until they came 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


98 

to a jungle that dropped suddenly between steep sides. 
They halted for a moment in the black shadow ; just in 
front of them there was a gleam of pale sands, and 
they plainly heard a whisper of flowing waters and a 
farther glimmer of more sands beyond them, challeng- 
ing their advance. 

“I think you must be dreaming, yourself, Mr. Jack,” 
said William. “You were in the lead, and you’ve 
brought us down to the river.” 

They cautiously retraced their steps, fearing all the 
while that they might meet some of the enemy and be 
taken prisoners. After a long and tiresome tramp in 
the dark they were delighted when they finally reached 
their own quarters. 

The morning was well-nigh spent; a group of men 
stood watching for the usual move to be made. They 
had been there about ten days, and the cavalry had 
been sent out each day. William was sitting on the 
ground, drawing lines in the soft earth with a sharp 
stick. Henry was sitting near, watching the lines 
grow into a clever map of their home county in Ver- 
mont. Jack joined them, stretching his arms high 
above his head and yawning prodigiously. 

“If we aren’t going to have anything more exciting 
than this I wish we had stayed in God’s country a 
little longer. Vermonters know how to give a fellow 
a royal time, all right.” 

“I guess you’ll get enough to stir your blood in a 
day or so, old man,” said Henry, as he turned to listen 
to an order that one of the officers was giving a short 
distance away: “Pack up, and be ready to move at a 
moment’s notice.” 

In a very short time the column was moving slowly 
toward the front. Before long the pickets were en- 
countered, but they quickly vanished into the fort. 
The order to charge was given, and there was an in- 
stant and grand response. With fixed bayonets the 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


99 


van of the stormers rushed through a tempest of can- 
ister, shot and bullets. And as they were scaling the 
walls of the fort a tremendous cheer rang out as they 
saw William Winston standing alone on the top of the 
wall with the enemy’s flag in his hand. 

As the order came to charge William rushed for- 
ward with just one thought m his mind, just one pic- 
ture before his eyes : That Rebel flag flaunting from 
the wall had haunted him for days ; and, no matter 
what the cost, he must get to it and tear it down. Up 
he went to the top of the wall. He was so oblivious to 
all else but his purpose that the flag was in his hands 
before he suddenly realized that he was alone and 
down there before him stood row after row of men 
with fixed bayonets shining in the sun. 

All his magnificent courage left him — every nerve 
was quivering — and he felt that his knees would not 
hold him up another second. It was scarcely more 
than an instant, but it seemed an age before he man- 
aged to call out: “I surrender.” Then, miracle of 
miracles, all the flashing bayonets fell, and he saw that 
his comrades in blue were swarming over the walls, 
cheering wildly; that many hands were patting his 
shoulders, grasping his hands ; many voices were call- 
ing him a hero as they passed to take in the prisoners. 
They had captured the fort, and William had his flag. 

At early dawn the Federal army was in a commo- 
tion, preparing to continue in pursuit of the enemy. 
William still had the flag that he had captured at the 
fort. He was all ready to start, when his name was 
called and he was sent in company with a guard of 
honor to brigade headquarters to deliver the flag. 

The Brigadier-General complimented him for his 
bravery, and told him that he had set an example 
worthy to be emulated by older men. Fie then issued 
an order recommending William for the first promo- 
tion in the regiment. 


loo WILLIAM WINSTON 

The boy felt very proud of himself when the order 
was read before his comrades. And, regardless of the 
terrible fright he had experienced, he said : “I would 
like to do the same thing over again if an opportunity- 
presented itself.” 

Then he hurried back to join his own company, and 
as their cheers greeted him he felt a lump in his throat ; 
and when Henry and Jack came forward to grasp his 
hands and express the pleasure they felt that their 
little friend had been so honored he couldn’t speak. 
The boy was completely overcome with the joy of the 
moment. His was a nature that could weep for joy 
but was outwardly unflinching as a stone when face to 
face with grief, danger, or suffering. 


CHAPTER XX. 

ON PICKET. 

In the afternoon the clouds grew dark and threaten- 
ing, and the sunshine, after a feeble struggle, was 
driven from view. The wind blew with greater force 
each moment as it swept across the level plain; sud- 
denly the rain came down in torrents. But the column 
moved steadily on. The captain had relieved William 
of his gun and knapsack, so the boy laughed easily as 
he struggled onward, splashing through the pools of 
water to remove the stiff clay that clung to his boots. 

“I’m glad I haven’t very much to carry, but I hope 
the wagons aren’t far behind,” panted Jack, as he 
paused a moment for breath. 

William stopped and looked back, craning his neck 
to see. “I’ll be blessed if I can see any sign of them, 
and I will be entirely without rations if they don’t 
come up.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


IOI 


The downpour continued, so that all were more 
than glad to pitch their tents by the roadside when 
the army stopped at four p. m. to bivouac for the 
night. William was one of the number chosen for 
, guard duty. 

Objects were dimly visible at a short distance in the 
darkening twilight when his turn came to go on picket. 
The post that he guarded included the main road 
which led to the camp about half a mile to the rear. 
As he walked back and forth along his beat the dark- 
ness deepened, and it seemed hours since he began 
passing and repassing there, watching in the uncertain 
light for an approaching foe. 

He felt that if it were only light he would have no 
fear. It was the unseen foe that might creep upon 
him unawares that he felt a sickening horror of. 
Weary from the long march, the boy wondered if re- 
lief would never come. Upon reaching the road, he 
paused a moment to listen. 

Toward the front there was a hollow in the road, 
and a large pond had formed from the heavy rainfall. 
As he stood there, almost at the edge of the water, he 
was reminded somehow of the terrible storm at sea 
through which he had passed. All thought of the 
danger and weariness of the present moment left him 
as he heard again the roaring of the waves when the 
storm burst overhead ; the old terror gripped his heart 
as he recalled his mad effort to grasp something firm 
to save himself from the seething waters. 

Just at that moment there was a loud splashing of, 
water in front of him, and with a start the boy came 
back from the past to the stirring present; he was 
again the alert guard on picket. Peering through the 
dark, he could see dimly outlined in front of him a 
squad of horsemen. When they were in the middle of 
the pond his voice rang out sternly: “Halt! Who 
goes there!” 


102 WILLIAM WINSTON 

The foremost one answered: “Friends, with the 
countersign/’ 

“Dismount, friends, and advance one with the coun- 
tersign/’ 

The leader swore wrathfully: “This is General 

. You surely don’t expect me to dismount in 

this water.” 

The peremptory command was repeated, and at the 
same time the click of the hammer of William’s gun 
was heard. All dismounted without further parley. 
“Advance one with the countersign.” 

The general, being in the lead, advanced through 
the water, which came to the top of his high boots ; but 
on he went. For the moment his rank did not count. 
The command of the private on picket had to be 
obeyed. Leaning over the point of William’s bayonet, 
he gave the countersign in a whisper. 

William said “Pass,” and gave the military salute, 
recognizing him for the first time as an officer. They 
were a sorry-looking lot as they rode away, all 
splashed with mud and water. They had only gone a 
short distance when the general wheeled his horse 
and returned to where William stood. 

“To what command do you belong, young man?” 

“The Vermont,” was the reply. 

He then asked the boy’s name and company. When he 
had received the desired information he said: “You’ll 
hear from me again,” and then rode down the road. 

A moment later the relief arrived, and William 
hurried back to his quarters. Feeling somewhat un- 
easy about the general having taken his name, he went 
to his captain and related the whole occurrence. The 
captain and those with him burst into peals of laughter. 

When the captain was sufficiently composed to speak 
he asked: “Couldn’t you have retired to the rear a 
little distance and allowed the cavalry men to dis- 
mount on dry ground ?” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


103 

William’s eyes twinkled with mischief, as he said: 
“When I heard the general swearing at me I couldn’t 
resist the temptation to show him I had the authority 
to command him just then. It was fun to compel a 
general to obey my orders. Besides that, we’ve had 
to wade through mud and water most of the day, and 
I thought they ought to get a little of it.” 

The captain patted William on the shoulder. “Never 
mind, boy ; you did your duty. When you hear from 
the general it will probably be something good.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

FIVE DAYS WITHOUT FOOD. 

For many weeks there were strategic movements 
between the two opposing armies. At times Wash- 
ington was threatened by Lee, and then again Rich- 
mond was threatened by Meade. 

There were weary marches in pursuit of a fleeing 
enemy. At one time, after several days of pursuit, the 
Federals came to the edge of a dense forest, where 
the Vermont Brigade had a fierce little encounter with 
the enemy’s rear guard. It lasted about an hour, until 
darkness intervened. In the morning the enemy had 
vanished. 

Again the long column passed onward. Many grew 
weary, and wondered if the tiresome marching would 
ever end. A gust of wind struck sharp as a blade 
from the gray sky, and the dead leaves were whirled 
and swept across the road from the grove that skirted 
the plain. 

Swinging his arms to quicken the current of his 
blood, William trudged along. “This air feels like 
snow to me,” he said to Jack, who nodded miserably, 
his teeth chattering with the cold. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


104 

Over the advancing host gloom had settled with the 
clouds, and but few brave lips offered jests ; there were 
no blankets or overcoats, and a very small supply of 
rations, and the wagon trains were far in the rear. 

Finally the army stopped at the edge of a dense 
forest, where a creek or run lay in front of them. On 
the south bank of the creek could be seen the enemy’s 
army entrenched behind extensive fortifications. Dams 
had been built across the creek, so that if the advancing 
army should attempt an attack they would be com- 
pelled to swim the creek before making a charge. 
However, all arrangements were made to attack, even 
in the face of these almost insurmountable defences. 

“I’m glad I wasn’t chosen for guard duty this 
stormy night,” said William, as he stretched himself 
at full length in front of the crackling branches and 
then made a jest of his hunger with the defiant humor 
which made him a general favorite. He laughed at the 
change in the weather, at his own struggles with the 
wet wood, at the supply wagons creeping slowly after 
them. His courage had an unfailing gaiety. It 
showed itself in a smile or a whistle, as if he care- 
lessly played toss and catch with fate. A jest warmed 
his heart against cold and hunger. 

“Wish I could have gone home with Henry on his 
furlough,” said Jack, as he sat by the fire waiting for 
his turn to go on picket. “Wasn’t he lucky to be called 
home unexpectedly and get out of this? Guess he’ll 
have his Thanksgiving dinner at home.” 

“That would be pretty fine, wouldn’t it?” said Wil- 
liam, a little wistfully. “Say, that is a warm-looking 
coat you have on.” 

“Yes,” said Jack, turning the collar up closer about 
his ears. “It is fortunate for me that some of the 
men had the good sense to bring their heavy coats; 
the captain borrowed this one for me.” 

As he left the fire to go on duty a freezing wind 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


105 

struck him with full force. “Great Caesar!” he cried. 
“I should think the Confederate pickets would simply 
perish in this weather when they are so scantily 
clothed.” 

The two picket lines were about five hundred yards 
apart, and the men were walking their beats in plain 
view of each other. In fact, it had become customary 
not to fire at each other when on picket. 

The November wind swept fiercely over the en- 
camped armies. It was torture to those on picket ; sleet 
and ice were whirled into their faces with such ter- 
rible force that it almost took their breath. Nature 
seemed ranged against them, and added to this was 
hunger; but they fought each obstacle with a stern 
determination. 

It seemed hours to Jack that he had been walking 
back and forth. He swung his arms to keep up his 
circulation, and then wrung his stiffened hands so as 
to tighten his coat. Just as a band of sheep came 
along between the lines he heard someone say: 

“Hello, Johnnie! Are you there?” 

“I sure am, Yank. What’s the matter?” 

“What do you say if we kill a sheep and divide it?” 

“All right,” was Johnnie’s reply. 

“I’ll take the first shot, and if I kill the sheep I’m 
to have first choice.” And again Johnnie agreed. Mr. 
Yank killed the sheep and walked off with the two 
hind quarters. The Confederate went out and got the 
fore quarters, but when he reached his post again he 
turned and fired at his Yankee friend, but missed him. 

This started the firing for a mile on either side of 
that post. After that not a man could show his head 
without being shot at. As a consequence of not being 
able to walk their beats two men were frozen to death 
that night. 

The storm continued with unabated fury and still 
no provisions arrived. At last the attack was aban- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


106 

doned, the Mine Run campaign came to an abrupt end, 
and the Federal army was soon marching back to meet 
the supply trains. 

William had been five days without food, and at 
times something like delirium seized him and he stag- 
gered on blindly. For hours he was tortured with the 
longing for beef, for the fresh meat that would put life 
and heat into his veins. Suddenly a shot was heard, 
and just ahead in a little clearing a steer fell, pierced 
through the heart. William staggered forward at his 
utmost speed, and in frenzied haste cut a hunk out of 
the rump. Like a young savage he gnawed the raw 
meat, and said: “This is the sweetest meat I ever 
tasted.” 

Very shortly after this the long march ended ; they 
had reached the long-delayed supply train. One day’s 
rations were issued immediately and the army 
bivouacked for the night. Just after the tents were 
pitched it began to rain and blow furiously. 

William ate all his rations at one meal and could 
have eaten more. Over at Corps Headquarters there 
were boxes of hardtack piled twenty-five feet high and 
over a hundred feet long. During the night a great 
quantity of it disappeared. Next morning a thorough 
search was made for the missing bread, but not a 
crumb could be found. The boxes were buried in front 
of the tents, the loose earth had been carried away, 
and fires were built over the hidden treasures. So the 
starved men were able to feast on an abundance for a 
long time. 

The next move was to Brandy Station, where the 
army went into winter quarters. One cold, sparkling 
December morning, as Jack and William were return- 
ing from a tramp in the woods, where they had been 
hunting and gathering nuts for Christmas, Jack was 
saying disconsolately that he couldn’t see why they 
couldn’t have a furlough as well as Henry. “Oh, I 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


107 

don’t feel so bad about it since I heard that papa and 
mamma won’t be home this winter,” was William’s 
cheerful rejoinder. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

GUARDING THE ROAD. 

The story of two armies of the same mettle, strug- 
gling for supremacy in the wilderness, involves the 
history of a general who never retraced his steps. 
Through month after month of discouragements and 
work gone for naught, besides the terrible ravages in 
his army in killed and wounded at each battle, his eyes 
never left the goal. To destroy Lee’s army was the 
work laid out, and by the grace of the wisdom of that 
President who himself knew sorrow, suffering, de- 
feat, and unjust censure General Grant was placed in 
supreme command; and, although the enemy was 
entrenched behind line after line of almost insur- 
mountable defences, the silent man did not waver for 
a moment, but said: “We’ll fight it out on this line 
if it takes a year.” 

He hurled his forces against the enemy, who were 
hidden in a dense forest of oak and pine choked with 
dense underbrush and almost impassable entangle- 
ments. Then flanking movements were resorted to. 
For a time the troops marched all night and fought all 
day. A stern, unflinching force was at work ; and step 
by step and day by day the attacks were continued, 
until complete victory ultimately crowned General 
Grant’s efforts. 

The winter had seemed a long one with the almost 
continual drilling and reviewing under the direction of 
the new commander. The fifth of May was bright and 


io8 WILLIAM WINSTON 

mild, and William, as he started forward with the 
column, felt happy to be escaping from the tedious 
duties of camp life. 

“Where is Henry?” he asked Jack, who was march- 
ing beside him, whistling a gay tune. 

“He went over to company headquarters. Said he 
had a letter to mail before we started. By the way, I 
suppose you know that he was married when he was 
home on his furlough ?” 

“Yes. Henry told me when he got back. He and 
Jennie have been engaged a long time ; but I imagine 
the wedding was rather a surprise to everyone, because 
it occurred just a few days before he returned.” 

The sunshine fell brightly over them, lying in golden 
drops upon the fallen leaves. A cool breath was 
blown through a strip of damp woodland, where the 
trunks of the giant oaks were festooned with a great 
variety of vines. Then, as they went down a gentle 
slope, a fringe of willow appeared; and beyond the 
blur of green they saw the Robinson River. 

With a shout, the front line plunged into the stream, 
holding heavy muskets high above the current of the 
water and filing into a rough road which wound 
among the ferns. Midway of the river, near the ford- 
ing point, there was a little pool where William 
slipped and went over his boot tops in the muddy 
water. 

The rear line pressed upon him, so he crossed 
rapidly, sat on a rock and emptied the water 
out of his boots ; then he stood up and shook the 
water from his clothes. From the front and rear 
came the steady tramp of moving troops. The boy 
hastened forward. When he overtook Jack they had 
reached the plank road that ran through the wilder- 
ness from Gordonsville to Fredericksburg. 

Part of the army crossed the river lower down, 
where it merges into the Rapidan, and there it was 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


log 


necessary to cross on pontoon bridges. At noon the 
army was massed into close column and a halt was 
made for dinner. 

The Sixth Corps, with the Vermont Brigade in 
the lead, advanced about three miles along the plank 
road through the dense forest, never dreaming that 
there was an enemy within miles. Suddenly the order 
“Halt and rest!” was given. 

William was sent with a squad of six men to guard 
the road about a quarter of a mile in advance of the 
head of the column. 

“Fire on the first one who comes up the road” was 
the order given to William, which was the first inti- 
mation he had that they were in the presence of the 
enemy. 

The guards were stationed near a bend in the road. 
The forest, with its dense undergrowth, could not be 
penetrated more than a few yards in the clearest 
places. Suddenly they heard the unmistakable sound 
of approaching horses coming from the front, but 
nothing was visible. 

William drew the men together and gave his or- 
ders : “After firing, each man return to his own 
company as soon as possible. Don’t fire until after 
I do ; ready.” 

He dropped on one knee and took steady aim at 
the bend of the road. The noise was growing nearer 
and louder every moment. His only thought was to 
pick off the leader of the advancing foe. He was 
so intent watching for their appearance that he 
scarcely breathed, and his finger was steady on the 
trigger of his gun. Suddenly the foremost rider swept 
into view and William’s heart almost ceased beating 
with horror and amazement at the sight that met his 
gaze. There, calmly advancing toward him, was a 
Union Major-General who was a great favorite with 
the entire army. 


no 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


The young guard trembled with emotion at the 
thought of how horrible it would have been if his 
finger had involuntarily pressed the trigger. As the 
Major-General rode up the little group of guards 
presented arms. 

“What is this?” asked the General. 

“Guard in advance of the Sixth Corps, with orders 
to fire on the first one who came up the road,” re- 
plied William. 

“Well, my boy, I’m very glad that you disobeyed 
orders ; but I will vouch for it at headquarters that 
you were ready to carry them out had you not recog- 
nized my uniform.” 

Another corps approached, and William, with his 
squad of men, returned to their regiment. Then the 
bugle sounded the advance and the Federal army 
plunged into the dense forest, facing south. 

Knowing nothing of the roads and the paths in- 
tersecting the woods, they struggled onward through 
the choked entanglements of underbrush. They had 
advanced about a quarter of a mile when suddenly 
a terrific fire poured into their ranks. Nothing was 
visible but trees and brush, and it seemed as if every 
tree poured forth a stream of fiery lava that would 
surely consume everything in its path. 

The Federals broke and ran. Then the Confeder- 
ates came out of their hiding behind the trees and 
defences and fairly swarmed among the thick brush 
like myriads of bees, responding to the order, “Ad- 
vance.” 

They did not go far, however. The Federals had 
rallied and were lying down. As the enemy advanced 
they were surprised to receive the same warm recep- 
tion that they had just given. It was an encounter 
of veterans of the same mettle, and the fierce contest 
lasted until dark. 

The next morning at daybreak the Federals were 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


lit 


ordered to advance. When passing over the scene 
of the previous day’s encounter they saw that the 
trees were barked and the underbrush was literally 
mowed down. It seemed a miracle that anyone should 
have escaped. On they went, through the dim shad- 
ows of the early morning. They charged the enemy, 
captured their works, and drove them about three 
miles. Suddenly an order was given: “Lie down and 
hold your ground at all hazards.” 

A desultory fire was maintained. There was not 
an enemy in sight, but their presence was made 
known by their firing. About noon the enemy ad- 
vanced and were met by a heavy and continuous fire 
from the Federals. Suddenly the Union men were 
horrified to discover that their left flank was turned 
and forced back upon them. They broke and ran, 
every man for himself, and everywhere they were 
falling, some never to rise again. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

LOST. 

“Where is William? I have been looking every- 
where for both of you,” said Jack, eagerly, when 
Henry joined his company, some time after dark. 

“I was lost,” said Henry, as he threw himself down 
on the ground, completely exhausted. “I fell in at 
the end of the line when I finally found our army 
again.” 

“I stumbled and fell ; was struck on the head and 
stunned. When I was able to get up no one was in 
sight, but the bullets were coming thick and fast, so 
I turned and ran as fast as I could, thinking, of course, 
that I would overtake our company. Instead, I ran 


1 12 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


into a group of officers, and General Grant was sit- 
ting smoking under a tree. 

“Just as I came up an aide rushed through the 
forest from the front. He saluted and said : “General, 
the whole army is in retreat/ 

“The General lit a fresh cigar, smoked calmly on 
in silence for a few moments, and then said : T don't 
believe a word of it/ Then he got up, mounted his 
horse and went forward. 

“By this time an aide had given me instructions 
how to get back to my command. The General was 
right, for when I got back our men had rallied and 
were fighting like fury; it was terrific. My musket 
got so hot it blistered my fingers. I swan, I thought 
the day would never end/’ 

“Yes,” said Jack, “it has been an awful day; so 
many of our men were lost. Suppose many of them 
ran into the enemy’s lines. Once the dead leaves 
and branches took fire in front of us, and many were 
overcome with the smoke. We soon managed to ex- 
tinguish the flames. It wouldn’t take long to ex- 
terminate both armies if the forest took fire and 
once got beyond control. I’m going to see if there 
is any news of William. We haven’t seen him since 
noon.” And Jack hurried away with an anxious 
pucker between his eyes. 

An hour later he came slowly back, as if very re- 
luctant to impart his news. “William has been re- 
ported among the dead,” he said, with an uncontroll- 
able little choke in his voice. 

The sad news brought sorrow to many brave hearts, 
for the boy had been the pet of his regiment, and the 
men gathered in little groups, where there were many 
expressions of grief. 

At midnight Jack and Henry were still waiting and 
hoping for a more favorable report of their brave 
young chum. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


113 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A WOUNDED BOY. 

In a vast forest, where the giant oak trees stood 
up like lonely walls to shut him in from the living 
world, lay a young boy terribly wounded. It seemed 
an eternity that he lay there, while the life blood oozed 
from his wound. 

Boom ! boom ! through the forest came the ominous 
sound of the guns of the two armies; and the echo 
was answered again and again as it reverberated in 
the distance. In fancy the echo was to him the song 
of his bannered army marching over the battlefield 
with conquering voices and with swords unsheathed 
and red, carrying the spoils of conquest behind the 
laurelled captain of the host. 

In the midst of this wilderness of trees and strug- 
gling green things it seemed as if nature was ranged 
against him. He had fallen in the tiny clear space, 
where the radiance of the noon sun descended upon 
his already fever-scorched head. 

‘‘Oh, if I could only move just a little,” he thought. 
The cool, inviting shade was all around him, and it 
seemed that the little space he occupied was the only 
place in all the forest where the sun shone with pitiless 
strength. 

The lad tried to call out in his agony, but no sound 
escaped from his parched and aching lips. Then de- 
spair took possession of him; the last ray of hope 
vanished, and at last he sank into unconsciousness. 

The army might have been a thousand miles away, 
so profoundly separated was this boy from them and 
human aid. Overhead the mighty oaks waved to and 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


1 14 

fro like living things beating with vitality. The sun’s 
rays gleamed like burning flames, which conveyed a 
consuming sense of power that should find its way to 
the deepest recesses of one’s being; but the uncon- 
scious boy still remained motionless, as if passed be- 
yond the reach of earthly aid. 

A young soldier came running through the forest. 
His heart was pounding so furiously and his breath 
was so very short he felt he would surely drop or 
suffocate. Suddenly a gleam of water caught his 
eye and he threw himself down beside the cool little 
spring and took a long, eager draught. Then he 
filled his canteen and leaned back against a tree to 
recover his breath before hurrying on. 

Looking around to determine, if he could, which 
direction to follow in search of his friends, he was 
startled to see lying on the ground only a few feet 
away a young boy in a gray uniform. And as he 
looked a faint moan reached his ear. 

Forgetting entirely the color of the uniform, he 
hurried forward and stooped over the prostrate form. 
It was a beautiful young boy, and he was evidently 
dying. The soldier moistened the parched lips, bathed 
the fevered brow and bound up as best he could the 
ugly wound. Then, as he moved the head into a 
more comfortable position, so that the sun would 
not shine in the sufferer’s face, he was rewarded by 
seeing the eyes open, and as consciousness returned 
gratitude shone in the patient’s eyes as they slowly 
filled with tears. 

The wounded boy whispered: “We were enemies, 
but we’re not now.” 

All thought of North and South was obliterated 
for the moment with these two boys. They were 
Americans. The small things and the bitterness of 
the fight had faded. There was only love for suffering 
humanity. The yearning of a soul lifted above petty 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


ii5 

malice, and with love and sympathy in his heart, the 
young soldier in blue did all in his power to alleviate 
the suffering of the boy in gray. 

And the latter, who was so near death’s door, felt 
the influence of a larger atmosphere, and all bitter- 
ness was blown away. 

It was very late when Henry woke up suddenly 
and rubbed his eyes ; then spoke aloud : “I was sure 
I heard William’s voice. It surely was not a dream.” 

No ; he heard footsteps, and then the same voice 
again. He jumped up, and there stood William di- 
rectly in front of him and speaking to him. He 
grasped the boy’s hands in his. 

'‘William. William; is it really you? Some one 
saw you fall and we thought that you had been killed.” 

While he was speaking Jack ran in, and as soon 
as he made sure that it was really his young friend 
his first thought was that the lad must be famished, 
and off he hastened to find something to eat. 

“Don’t bother, Jack,” William called after him. 
“I had supper as soon as I came up with our army. 
They directed me how to find my company, and as 
soon as I had rested a little I started out on the plank 
road ; and here I am.” 

Jack and Henry were too excited to sleep, and 
William said he was too tired to sleep, so they sat 
down together to talk things over. 

“Tell us what happened to you; were you lost, 
too ?” inquired Henry. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A DESPERATE CHANCE. 

“My foot caught in a vine and I went sprawling 
headlong on the ground; then some one fell on me 
like a thousand of brick. It took all the breath out of 


ii 6 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


me. When I finally managed to extricate myself there 
was no one in sight and I ran like a greyhound to 
escape the enemy’s bullets, which were coming thick 
and fast. I thought, of course, that I would soon 
overtake my company, and I went through the brush 
as fast as I possibly could. After some time I found 
myself entirely out of range of the firing. 

“And then I stumbled onto a Confederate soldier 
boy who was terribly wounded. I gave him a drink, 
bound up his wounds the best I could, and when he 
seemed better asked him if I should try to get help 
to bring him into our lines, where he could get medical 
aid. He said no, he hadn’t long to live, but he gave 
me his mother’s address and asked me to write to 
her. I promised to do so, then filled his canteen and 
hurried on. 

“My heart ached for the poor young fellow there 
all alone, with no one even to moisten his lips till he 
breathed his last. He was a brave boy and seemed 
reconciled and even cheerful after I promised to write 
his mother. 

“I wandered on and on, lost in the wilderness. I 
seemed to lose all idea of the points of the compass ; 
it was growing late, and I was very anxious to find 
some part of our army. I was carrying my gun at 
the trail, as the brush was very thick. Suddenly a 
man in gray uniform stepped from behind a tree, at 
the same moment calling ‘Halt!’ 

“Quick as a flash I fired, turned, and ran in the 
opposite direction. The next instant the forest was 
filled with smoke, as the whole Confederate picket line 
fired, and I imagined that every one was aiming at 
me. The only effect it had was to make me run faster, 
and I can tell you I was glad that the brush was 
thick.” 

“That was a desperate chance you took, kid,” re- 
marked Henry. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


HZ 

“Yes, it was, but I’ve always thought I’d rather die 
than be taken prisoner, so I took the chance to escape. 
After going in the opposite direction about a mile 
the command ‘Halt !’ again rang out. This time there 
was nothing in sight but the barrel of a gun pointed 
straight at me. There was nothing to do but obey 
the next command given in a stern voice by a man 
who still remained invisible : ‘Lay down your arms 
and move five paces away.’ 

“He then called for the corporal of the guard, who 
came with two file of men and escorted me to the 
reserve post. I was questioned in regard to what com- 
mand I belonged to and also as to what had caused 
the firing in front. 

“Of course, my reply was that I ran into the enemy’s 
picket line, and that had caused the firing. I was 
then told to rest and have supper, and that I was nine 
miles from my command. 

“I’m as tired as if I had traveled fifty miles/’ Will- 
iam lay down then and, despite his statement that he 
was too tired to sleep, was in the land of nod almost 
before he was fairly rolled in his blanket. 

“We’re on the reserve this morning,” was the first 
thing Henry told William when he awoke. 

“I’m certainly glad of that,” was the boy’s reply. 
He ate a cracker and was asleep again almost before 
he had finished it. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THEY MEET BETWEEN THE LINES. 

About io p. m. William awoke from a deep sleep to 
find Henry shaking him and saying : “Come, boy, fall 
in. Didn’t you hear the orders to march?” 

Round about in the thicket the men were stumbling 


n8 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


in the dark. “I swan/’ said Jack ; “this is worse than 
a Chinese puzzle. I’d like to know how we can find 
our way anywhere through this pathless tangle in the 
dark.” 

Their patience was tried to the limit as they became 
entangled in the vines and underbrush and fell over 
each other. The air was blue with mutterings and 
exclamations suggestive of darker and hotter regions. 

Slow, indeed, was the progress made, until finally 
they felt the old plank road under their feet, and each 
breathed a deep sigh of relief and thankfulness as the 
column went forward more rapidly. When they had 
traveled many miles a sudden turn was made and 
they pressed onward as softly as possible into the low, 
tangled ground, where the air seemed stagnant and 
oppressive. 

The men wiped away streams of perspiration as they 
pushed forward, feeling their way and bumping into 
each other when a sudden or unexpected stop occurred 
in front, which at times would cause a delay of some 
length. 

Then, as the column moved on again, the men stum- 
bled over their comrades who had fallen down where 
they stood to snatch a moment’s sleep and rest. Weary 
and worn after the long day’s battle, some had reached 
the point where it mattered not whether it be life or 
death ; the call of nature for the moment overcame, 
as the young are like water without sleep. 

“Wake up ; fall in !” was the order heard all along 
the line. William responded quickly, and struggled on- 
ward in the dark, wondering as he went if the grim 
march was only a mad prank or a wild-goose chase, 
as some of the malcontents bitterly declared. 

The vast majority of this army went plodding along 
in supreme silence, with a spirit as far removed from 
that of the malcontents as the lofty grandeur of the 
mountains is raised above the lowlands. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


ug 

At last a glimmer of light showed along the eastern 
horizon. The advancing hosts were cheered at sight 
of the dawning light, which seemed to inspire them 
with new hope and courage to go bravely on and stand 
firmly the extreme test of solving the great problem 
at issue, regardless of whatever opposition might be 
ranged against them. Nights like this proved the met- 
tle that had gone into the making of these men. 

William felt dimly as he dragged his aching body 
onward that they were marching to a greater victory 
than was dreamed of. 

Henry returned from a stretch of woods some dis- 
tance in advance of the line where the army was 
massed near Spottsylvania Court House, and he re- 
marked to Jack, who had come to meet him, “Do you 
know the Rebs have headed us off ? They are out there 
in full force right in front of us .” 

“Well, they would hardly go to sleep and let us 
have things our own way/’ said Jack. “Suppose they 
marched all night, too. Did you see William when 
you were out there? 

“No; when did he go?” inquired Henry. 

“He was promoted second sergeant and sent out 

with Lieutenant and a detail of forty-eight men 

on picket.” 

William, standing in front of a group of the re- 
serves, caught a glimpse of a tall Confederate soldier 
standing near the enemy’s picket line. He went for- 
ward a few paces, waving a white paper. Mr. Johnnie 
immediately waved something white in reply. They 
both laid down their arms and, going forward, met 
between the lines. 

Sergeant William Winston delivered into the 
enemy’s hands the letter he had written to the mother 
of the dying Confederate soldier boy whom he had 
found in the wilderness. They stood talking for a 
moment. When each turned to go back to his own 


120 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


line the Confederate grasped the young sergeant’s 
hand and held it in a vice-like grip for a moment. 

Overcome with gratitude, his eyes filled with tears 
and he could only say, brokenly : “Thank you for the 
message to a bereaved mother. God will bless you for 
this act, my boy.” 

When Sergeant Winston reached his own picket 
line he found the men resting behind temporary breast- 
works which they had hurriedly thrown up by piling up 
logs, rails and dirt. 

About 2 p. m. they were startled by a sudden crack- 
ling and crashing as if a whirlwind or cyclone were 
twisting the whole forest into kindling wood. The 
awful sound came nearer and nearer each second. 
Sergeant Winston was stationed near the center of the 
Federal picket line, and he gave the order, “Keep 
cool ; don’t fire until the Johnnies come into plain 
view.” All were ready and watching intently for 
the enemy to appear in front. 

The sound of a single voice was heard, evidently a 
Confederate officer giving commands, but before it 
ceased it was drowned in the thunderous whizzing and 
rattling of shot and shell — still not an enemy appeared 
in front. Suddenly the bullets began whistling about 
them from either side. 

“Fall back quickly” was the order given, and at the 
same moment the Confederates cried “Halt ! Halt !” 

A desperate rush was made by the Federals to 
escape from the trap that was fast closing upon them, 
but the enemy rushed in from either side, and their 
doom was sealed. 

Sergeant Winston felt that death was preferable to 
an indefinite period in a Southern prison, and darkest 
despair almost overcame him, but a faint little gleam 
of hope returned as a voice seemed to whisper, “On 
thyself depends.” 

Then, quick as a flash, he sprang from among his 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


i2r 


captors and rushed on, then on, amid the crackling 
roar of musketry behind and the whining whistle of 
Winchester bullets overhead. He redoubled his speed, 
and continued his flight through the awful turmoil as 
if he were a spirit immune from the ravages of shot 
and shell. 

Sergeant Winston and only three of the men finally 
reached their battle line in safety. The Federal ar- 
tillery opened such a terrible fire on the enemy that 
they fled back into the woods. 

After four days of fighting, with terrible slaughter 
on the Federal side from trying to storm the enemy’s 
breastworks, there was not an inch of ground gained 
on either side. 

General Grant continued to press Lee’s right. He 
would move the Federal position during the night and 
fight all the next day. The only time given for rest 
was when on the reserve, and still under artillery fire. 
But the men slept peacefully as long as the fire con- 
tinued in the same direction. A cross fire would wake 
them. 

After fighting two days at Hanover Court House, 
General Grant sent the Sixth Corps back to Spottsyl- 
vania in the night, hoping thereby to surprise the 
enemy and turn Lee’s left flank. But the Johnnies 
were there and gave them a warm reception in the 
morning. 

That afternoon the sixth corps started back to Han- 
over Court House to join the main army. They ar- 
rived at their destination at n p. m. completely worn 
out, and when the command “Halt and rest” was 
given the men dropped where they stood and slept. 

In the morning when Sergeant Winston awoke 
there was a stream of water running half way up 
his side. There had been a heavy rainstorm during 
the night, but he had neither heard nor felt it. 

He got up and built a fire to dry himself, and was 


122 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


eating hardtack and salt pork for breakfast, when 
he heard the order, “Fall in; forward, march.” 

He started out with his clothes steaming on him, 
but the sun came out bright and warm, and soon he 
was nicely dried. At noon a halt was made for coffee, 
and then the march was continued. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

BETWEEN TWO FIRES. 

General Sheridan, with his cavalry, had seized 
Cold Harbor, a center of roads of great value; then 
the Sixth Corps was immediately despatched from the 
right to this point, with orders to hold it. They 
formed into line of battle and advanced about a mile 
into the thick woods. As they were pushing their 
way slowly through the many obstructions in the dense 
underbrush the command to halt was given, and sud- 
denly the ominous sound of heavy musketry came 
thundering through the forest on their right and in 
front, where the enemy’s line of battle was concealed 
from view by the thick foliage and dense undergrowth. 

The Federals instantly responded, and the sound 
was appalling as the bullets that were flattened by 
striking the trees glanced and tore the air as they 
whizzed and screamed in their onward flight of awful 
destructiveness. 

Every one sought the largest tree at hand and 
hugged the rear side as closely as possible. Sergeant 
Winston was so busily engaged loading and firing that 
he did not observe what was taking place around him. 
Suddenly, to his intense surprise, the bullets began 
coming from the rear more than the front, and he 
saw when he turned to look that his comrades had 
retreated several hundred yards. 

He stood for a moment almost paralyzed with fear, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 123 

while the deadly fire of both armies came whizzing 
toward him from front and rear. At the same mo- 
ment, to add to the horror of the situation, he saw a 
lone Johnnie peering through the brush as he ad- 
vanced from tree to tree. 

Here was a fearless foe, who had advanced in front 
of his own line, his whole soul bent on the one ab- 
sorbing desire to obtain a glimpse of the enemy so as 
to take steady aim. Sergeant Winston held his breath 
Hugging his tree, he quietly moved around inch by 
inch as his enemy came nearer and nearer. Then, 
as Mr. Reb. passed a few yards to the left, the Ser- 
geant quickly covered him with his gun and said 
quietly, “Drop that gun, Johnnie. ,, 

The Reb. took one glance over his shoulder and 
dropped his gun instantly. They retreated slowly 
until they came in view of the Union line, and the 
Federals ceased firing until they came in. The Ser- 
geant hurried on, and as he saluted the Captain he 
said, “This is my prisoner.” 

The officers questioned the Confederate, but the 
only information he gave was that he was from the 

Alabama, and that they were in force in front. 

“It was monotonous to just shoot at the brush and 
trees, so I was sneaking up to get a shot at you all. 
I didn’t expect to find anyone back there in front of 
your line,” he said, with a dry laugh. 

The officers and men complimented Sergeant Wins- 
ton on his coolness and courage in being out there 
between two fires and bringing in a prisoner. They 
told him he certainly was daring for one so young. 
The young Sergeant felt very proud of being men- 
tioned in the despatches to headquarters. 

A heavy skirmish line was thrown out near the edge 
of a clear space where there was a stretch of cultivated 
fields and gardens. The men had remained on their 
arms all night ; at early dawn they were compelled to 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


124 

hide behind trees and stumps, as the enemy’s sharp- 
shooters were very busy. 

Jack and Henry were lying behind a couple of trees 
that stood close together. Sergeant Winston, who 
was behind a stump between them and Roy Baker, 
shouted : “I wish we could get some of those onions 
in the garden out there between the lines. I’m starv- 
ing for some green vegetables.” 

“It would be all your life is worth to go out there, 
where the enemy could get a good aim at you,” said 
Henry. “You are like all boys, always hungry.” 

Suddenly a piercing cry rang out, and as Sergeant 
Winston turned he saw Roy Baker whirling around 
and then fall to the ground. He ran to his aid, and 
as he raised him Roy gasped, “I’m shot in the leg ; my 
leg is gone.” 

Sergeant Winston called for aid, and Jack quickly 
responded. The enemy kept up a continuous fire, and 
the bullets were whizzing through the air and plough- 
ing up the ground all around them. They finally got 
Roy seated on a gun with his arms resting on their 
shoulders, and then they took him back to the stretch- 
er-bearers, who carried him to the rear, where medical 
attention was given, and a little later he was sent to 
the hospital at Washington. 

The boys immediately returned to duty, and Ser- 
geant Winston was just getting down behind a tree 
when a shot grazed the top of his head, glancing back 
through the folds of his blanket and lodging there. 
He observed suddenly that he was by the same tree 
that Roy had used for shelter when he was shot, so 
he ran quickly to another tree close by. Getting down 
close to the trunk, he put his cap on his bayonet and 
held it out in plain sight; then watched. A moment 
later the cap was torn to shreds. The smoke and 
sound of the report issued from the top of a tree near 
the enemy’s skirmish line. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


125 

The Sergeant lost no time in taking careful aim at 
the smoke, thinking as he did so, “Ah, ha, Mr. 
Sharpie, I have you located at last. I guess you’re 
the one who shot poor Roy.” No more smoke 
emerged from that tree. 

Jack and Henry were resting quietly, expecting that 
there would be an order to attack at any moment. 
Firing had ceased for some time at their point of the 
line. Henry turned to see what Sergeant Winston 
was doing, but that young man was nowhere in sight. 

At that moment firing was heard along the two 
lines a short distance away. The officer of the day 
hurried forward to ascertain the cause. He saw Ser- 
geant Winston in an onion patch out between the 
lines, and as the lad started back the firing from the 
enemy’s lines was so heavy that he got down and 
rolled over and over. The dirt was flying all around 
him. For every Reb. that showed his head to take 
aim at the boy a dozen volleys rang out from the 
Union side. 

When the Sergeant finally reached his own line he 
had his haversack full of onions. The officer of the 
day asked sternly: “Why did you risk your life out 
there between the lines?” 

“Those onions had been tempting me all morning, 
and I just had to have some.” 

“I wouldn’t go out there if I could sell the onions 
for fifty dollars apiece,” was the officer’s comment. 

“Help yourself, sir; you may have all you want,” 
said Sergeant Winston. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

BREVETTED SECOND LIEUTENANT. 

Just then they saw the Federal army advancing as 
warily as quails along through the woods toward 
the clearing. On the opposite side of the clear space 


126 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


the Confederate army had three lines of breastworks 
and forts, behind which they complacently remained. 

Across the level space swept the advancing hosts 
in the face of a withering artillery fire which mowed 
great gaps in their line. They cooly closed in and 
went on with touched elbows. The enemy’s skirmish 
line could be seen going at a mad run, and then van- 
ished behind the defenses. 

But the resistless foe followed, and, like a devastat- 
ing tornado, uprooted and leveled the first line of 
works, behind which the gray coats were rushing 
hither and yon, deaf to the brave shoutings of their 
captains. At every hand and under every foot was 
the crouching, quailing foe; the air was one crash 
of huzzas and groans, screams, shots and commands. 

It was a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, and the 
Confederates fought desperately to escape from their 
captors. Several hundred prisoners were double- 
quicked to the rear, while above the carbine peals and 
pistol cracks rose the thunderous yells of the Federals 
in another onset. 

Officers and men in equality, shoulder to shoulder, 
plunged forward again and again through the awful 
din and smoke in a fearless endeavor to tear down 
and capture the second line of the enemy’s defenses. 
But the odds were too great against them. After the 
third attack the Federals withdrew, with fearful loss, 
and quickly rebuilt the line of works which they had 
captured. Under cover of this position the conflict 
was continued. 

The first lieutenant was wounded, and the second 
lieutenant took his place. Sergeant Winston was 
brevetted second lieutenant, and given orders to fill 
the vacancy. 

That night after dark the Federal troops that had 
been on duty under fire for forty-eight hours were re- 
lieved and sent to the rear. After one more day of 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


127 

fighting the Federals quietly withdrew and flanked 
around toward the James River. 

After two days’ fighting there was a flag of truce 
to bury the dead. Many men in both armies greeted 
each other with a friendly handshake as they met 
between the lines. 

Lieutenant Winston stood aghast amid the awful 
harvest of the battle. It seemed as if he could see 
unrolled before him the years of suffering that were 
to come to those who were strewn about him, maimed 
and suffering untold agony, and in that moment of 
bitterness his reason almost wavered. 

Presently his thoughts were distracted by a conver- 
sation close by between friend and foe: “Well, I’ll 
swan, Johnnie, which way did you come? You 
reached Petersburg almost as soon as we did.” 

“I reckon we traveled on parallel roads. I say, 
Yank, we sure gave you all hell the last three days at 
Cold Harbor.” 

“That’s what you did, Johnnie; but we couldn’t get 
at you, when you were hid behind such strong de- 
fenses. We showed you what we could do at Gettys- 
burg when you came out and met us face to face and 
we had a fair and even show.” 

When the truce was ended and the men had re- 
turned to their own lines the following was heard at 
different points: “Are you under cover, Johnnie?” 

“Yes, Yank. Are you? Look out, now; I’m going 
to shoot.” After which friendship ceased and every 
head that appeared above cover would be made a tar- 
get- 

Evening was drawing down. Over the plaintive 
pink and golden glow of sunset was slowly being 
drawn a pervasive silver veil of moonlight. 

City Point was dimly visible in the distance as the 
transports laden with Federal troops sailed down the 
James toward Chesapeake Bay. 


128 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


Lieutenant Winston, with his usual companions, 
Henry and Jack, stood on deck watching the scene. 
The mystery, the greatness, the life-giving power of 
the mighty river was upon them. 

“It seemed a pity to destroy the track and rolling 
stock like we did after capturing the Weldon Railroad 
from the enemy,” said Henry aloud to himself, look- 
ing out upon the green expanse and eyeing longingly 
the cornfields here and there. 

Hearing the exclamations of his companions, he 
realized that they had overheard his remark. “Oh, 
you needn’t look as though I had turned traitor. I 
realize perfectly that it was one of the cruel necessities 
of war, since the road was one of Lee’s important 
lines of supply. I was merely thinking of the awful 
destruction of life and property in times of war.” 

The explanation was evidently satisfactory, as all 
relapsed again into silence. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A GREAT JOY. 

A street musician was standing in front of an im- 
posing brick house playing with shrill insistence a 
medley of airs. For a long time no response came, 
but at last, when the strains of “Dixie” were wafted 
through the wide-shuttered windows in tones that 
were exultant, a young girl quickly appeared on the 
balcony, and, leaning over the luxuriant boxes of flow- 
ers and plants, threw a coin to the musician. 

Turning to enter the house again, she caught sight 
of the new dome of the Capitol, glistening in the early 
morning sunlight, the sight of which caused her to 
press her lips together and to wonder how the musi- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


129 

cian dared to play “Dixie.” She watched the gro- 
tesque figure turn the corner, and as he paused in 
front of the next house and began repeating his airs 
the girl held her breath a moment, as if expecting a 
regiment of Federal soldiers to swoop down on the 
offender if he dared to repeat the song she loved right 
here in the center of Washington. 

It was Agnes Ward. Something of the peace of 
her country home life at Wilston had followed her 
here, but now the poignant pain of her grief and dis- 
appointment that she had suffered when Lee’s army 
was defeated came back with renewed force. 

She thought of the long drive with her mother and 
Honey Stair on July first, and how perfectly sure she 
had felt in her own mind that the Confederacy would 
be established, and that the Confederate army would 
be in possession of the Capitol and dictating terms of 
peace almost as soon as they could reach their desti- 
nation. 

But a year had passed since then and she had 
watched events with less hope. Things stood still for 
her. The overwhelming defeat was a crushing blow, 
after her high hopes. She felt that the cause she 
loved was suspended over a chasm as on the trapeze 
of a balloon an adventurous aeronaut hangs over the 
hungry sea, waiting for the coming of the wind 
which will either blow the hazardous vessel to its 
doom or to safe refuge on the land. 

In spite of the fear that kept haunting her, she 
would say to herself constantly, “Our army must 
win ; they must win at last.” 

Re-entering the house, she went to the piano and 
began to play. She had a soprano voice and sang with 
a depth of feeling and a delicate form worthy of a 
professional. On the piano she was effective and 
charming, but into her voice she poured forth her 
soul as she sung her favorite song “Dixie.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


130 

Her mood was exalted patriotism, uplifted in the 
spirit of the song ; and while in this mood she laughed 
in scorn at the Federal soldiers she had seen, as she 
thought, “A million of them, with all the firearms in 
the world, could not ultimately prevail against the 
flower of the South/’ 

At last, with a sigh, she turned from the instru- 
ment and gazed out of the window. As she sat lost in 
her dream — a dream of Honey Stair, her brother 
David, and A1 Breton — a servant, entered with letters. 
One caught her eye. It was from her brother, from 
General Early’s headquarters. Her heart throbbed, 
yet she opened the envelope with steady fingers. With 
a little cry, she hastened through the few lines. 

My dear Sister: 

We will be in full possession of the Capital to-mor- 
row, and I hope that General Early will occupy the 
White House as his headquarters. 

We saw Honey Stair; expected to find you there. 
Will see you very soon. D. W. 

P. S. — A1 Brenton sends love. Poor fellow, he is 
quite lame since he was wounded the second time. 

As Agnes read she passed through phases of feel- 
ing which shook her composure. Her eyes were shin- 
ing with a dry, hot light ; her lips were quivering, and 
an emotion of exaltation thrilled her being. She knelt 
down to thank God. Her people’s simple faith was 
hers also, and as she prayed, with her brow on her 
clasped hands, it was as if she gave thanks to some 
great warrior who had drawn his sword in defense 
of the Confederate cause. 

She felt that God was on their side, supreme, benefi- 
cent, watchful in all things, as he has been on the side 
of all brave and fervent hearts in all ages. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


I3i 

Suddenly she started to her feet. Was that thun- 
der ? Boom ! boom ! boom ! thundered forth the crashi- 
ng sound of artillery, causing the earth to tremble. 

Was it terror that made the girl tremble so? No. 
ler face was radiant with a great joy as she cried 
loud, “Thank God; they are here; they are here at 
st !” 

She ran down stairs and out on the front gallery, 
d there, coming up the steps, was Honey Stair. 
“Oh, Agnes,” she gasped. “Our army has arrived, 
d they are attacking Fort Stevens. The Federals 
/e nothing but the invalid corps to defend the city.” 
\s they stood with clasped hands they saw men 
drying past with brows bent and fists clenched. Con- 
ling passions were depicted on the faces as the 
liber increased each moment into a seething throng, 
rung on and on ; while the awful boom of the 
eny’s cannon seemed to peal forth louder and 
leer, making each loyal heart feel that the city was 
irrave peril, and perhaps doomed. 

low I wish mamma and grandma would come 
be; they went down town early this morning,” 
sa Agnes, as she and Honey went up the stairs 
tojier. 

dr impression in the darkened rooms was of 
steess and sadness, and of strength. Effaced was 
thereboding fear they had felt. Agnes flung open 
thends and windows and then flew to the piano to 
plapixie” with all her might, and both girls sang 
therring strains with thrilling voices and confi- 
denadiant faces. It was well that Seventh Street 
was that moment hid from their view. 


132 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


CHAPTER XXX. 

IN GREAT PERIL. 

Let us go there. A sudden change had taken place. 
Soldiers in blue are advancing, and when Federal 
aids meet them with a message the order, “Forward, 
double quick, march,” is heard along the line. 

In a very short time these men in blue are at Fort 
Stevens. Moving along in a stooping position, they 
get in behind the breastworks without being seen by 
the enemy. The Invalid Corps, withdraw to give 
place to these reinforcements who have just arrived 
on transports from City Point and with not a moment 
to spare. The Capitol had been in the very grasp, as 
it were, of an invading army. 

General Early had his men in position for an attack 
about a mile in front. The artillery and sharpshooters 
had kept up a continual fire for some time. Presi- 
dent Lincoln and his staff were on top of the fort. 
Unafraid, the Commander-in-Chief reviewed the Fed- 
eral troops, with never a thought of the great peril to 
himself and the nation in thus placing himself in 
plain view of a relentless foe. 

“Well, I should think the President would with- 
draw to a place of safety when there are so many 
sharpshooters so near,” said Henry, impatiently, to 
Jack, as they were resting quietly behind the breast- 
works immediately in front of where the distinguished 
group was standing. 

Lieutenant Winston stood a little to the rear of his 
friends. He had been gazing at the tragic figure and 
face so full of inscrutable sadness; whose personal 
safety meant so much to the nation in this crisis of 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


133 

its existence. Shot and shell screamed overhead and 
all around. Still unharmed, the President remained 
as if he were the master of fate as well as the master 
of men. He did not seem to feel the danger; was it 
because he knew that his hour was not yet come? 

As Lieutenant Winston gazed at the face, wrinkled 
and aged with a nation’s sorrow, he thought that, of 
all the men he had ever seen, the President seemed 
to possess more of the elements of greatness combined 
with goodness than any other, and he wondered if 
every pang the nation suffered had cut a line in that 
face ; each line must be a battle. 

Such was this great commander’s love for man 
that he became whatever sufferer he saw, and so, 
through these years of war, his agony had been a 
people’s agony; his soul, a people’s soul. 

This, then, is the man whom the soldiers so lovingly 
called “Father Abraham” — a lonely, awkward figure 
of gigantic strength. And yet how gentle the voice; 
how sweet! His was a face to remember. A divine 
influence seemed to radiate and call forth the best 
that was within one’s soul. Thus would we be if there 
were more strength in us ; that is the love we love ; the 
God we revere. 

Suddenly a terrible crashing sound rent the air as a 
shell exploded right in the midst of the group. Some 
fell, and the groans of the injured were heard amid 
the increasing roar of the artillery. The enemy’s shot 
was aimed straight at President Lincoln — but it was 
his family physician who fell, with a broken leg. 

The crowd scattered quickly and went down into the 
fort. All breathed a sigh of relief, as they thought 
it a much better place for one whose safety was so 
vital to the nation’s welfare. 

The order to attack was given, and the Federals 
rushed forward, with colors folded, to conceal their 
identity. But when the Sixth Corps yell rang out 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


134 

as they charged, the enemy recognized their old foe, 
whom they had faced so many times during the past 
two years. The Confederates were driven back three 
miles, but every foot was stubbornly contested. Dark- 
ness soon intervened, and the fighting ceased. 

The Federals slept on their arms, so as to be ready 
to attack again at gray dawn. Along the lines of 
battle many a boy volunteer who had stood the test 
of the fierce battle moaned in his sleep as he lay on 
the hard ground. 

They saw again, in dreams, the ghastly sight of the 
battle’s harvest. Then their dear homes seemed to 
be within sight and sound of them, and mothers and 
sisters were holding out arms to them, as if implor- 
ing them to come, and they sobbed out loud as they 
felt powerless to go. 

Is war a thing to stir tlie blood ? Aye, while the day 
lasts. But what of the long, dark nights of anguish? 
What of the children who ask piteously where father 
is, and who are gathered by a sobbing mother to her 
breast ? 

Where is the picture of that last breakfast at home? 
So, in the midst of the cheer which is saddest in life, 
comes the thought that, only a few months ago, he who 
is the staff of the house was wont to sit down so mer- 
rily to his morning meal before going to work in the 
office. Why had they not thanked God on their knees 
for peace while they had it ? 

Oh, those guns ; how they roar ! Aye, and the echo 
will continue to roar through years of widowhood for 
countless numbers, and what courage sublime is that 
which encourages them to go bravely on and face the 
inevitable ? 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


135 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

IN THESE RANKS WERE NO FOES. 

The hospitals were filled with the wounded of both 
armies. All differences were levelled. In these ranks 
were no foes. Surgeons and nurses served all alike. 

Lieutenant Winston shuddered as he passed up and 
down the rows of cots, where comrades lay ghastly and 
maimed for life. The scene reminded him of another, 
just beyond the town, which he had passed through a 
few moments before, where the dead were lying row 
on row. He saw them, stark and cold, on the scorched 
grass beside the guns, or in the thin ridges of trampled 
corn, where the tall stalks were now beaten upon the 
ripped-up earth. 

He saw them as he had seen them when passing the 
battlefield, not in the glow of battle, but with the acute- 
ness of a brooding sympathy — saw them frowning, 
smiling, and with features which death had twisted into 
a ghastly stare. 

He is brought back to the present scene by a young 
boy who moaned aloud. He paused to arrange the suf- 
ferer’s pillow and then gave him water from a nearby 
pitcher. As he passed on he recognized the Confederate 
who had met him between the lines at Spottsylvania. 
Seeing the anguish depicted in the face, he stopped to 
speak a word of cheer and to inquire if they had found 
the wounded boy, but his inquiry fell on deaf ears; 
the man was delirious, and talked incoherently, with a 
bewildered look on his face. 

The Lieutenant passed on with a strained and eager 
look in his eyes. Finally his long search came to an 
end as he found his friend Roy Baker lying on a cot 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


136 

at the farther end of the row. Mrs. Baker, who was 
sitting beside her son, came forward with outstretched 
hands. 

“ William, you are too late; my poor boy does not 
recognize any one now. He told me that you were 
the first to come to his aid when he was shot. I have 
prayed God to bless and protect you, and I thank you 
for what you did.” 

Her voice faltered as he raised his hand in protest 
and gazed in silence at the wasted form of his friend. 

Mrs. Baker continued: “Roy told me how you 
and Jack came forward under the deadly fire of the 
enemy’s sharpshooters and carried him back to the 
stretcher-bearers. It was a noble and courageous 
thing to do, and I regard it as a debt I can never 
repay; but God will reward you. May heaven’s rich- 
est blessings be yours, is the fervent prayer of a grate- 
ful mother.” 

We had great hopes of his recovery after the leg 
was amputated, but another amputation became neces- 
sary, and since that he has been gradually sinking. 
The doctor said a little while ago that he cannot live 
through the night.” 

The broken-hearted mother choked with the an- 
guish of her grief as the two clasped hands in a silent 
farewell. The ravages that suffering had wrought 
in his old friend was a terrible shock to Lieutenant 
Winston, and as he turned away, sad and weary, he 
almost stumbled on his way to the door. 

Suddenly he came face to face with Honey Stair 
and Agnes Ward as they stood waiting, near the en- 
trance, for Mrs. Ward. The girls had been very busy 
helping to care for the wounded, and they seemed 
dazed by the scene and the terrible events of the day. 
William passed on in silence, as if in a dream. 

At early dawn the Federals silently went forward, 
but the enemy had retreated during the night, aban- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


137 

doning the longed-for prize that was almost within 
their grasp. The Federals followed in pursuit of the 
retreating Confederates. After going along the river 
some distance, they crossed the Potomac and went 
through Snicker’s Gap, on into the Shenandoah Valley. 

Washington was saved. The Sixth Corps had ar- 
rived on the scene at the crucial moment, and had 
won new laurels by defeating the invading army and 
saving the nation’s Capital. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

WITH THE ARMY OF THE SHENANDOAH. 

After the failure of his raid on Washington, Early 
had retired into the rich Shenandoah Valley. His 
presence there was a constant threat, and it was evi- 
dent that Lee had no intention of recalling him. 
Grant saw that a vigorous campaign must be conducted 
there to make a clean sweep of the valley, and, if pos- 
sible, prevent further use of it by the Confederates 
for campaign purposes. 

Sheridan was selected for the task and given com- 
mand of the Army of the Shenandoah. This superb 
body of men responded readily to the call of their 
energetic leader. With a keen perception, he grasped 
the situation at a glance, and with wonderful force 
and magnetism he swayed the whole army as one 
man, and they followed him with a determination 
that boded ill to any that might oppose them. 

The Army of the Shenandoah had been resting for 
several weeks at Berry ville. With eyes ever alert, 
the General watched for any move that might threaten 
Washington. News of an attack on the enemy was 
hailed with caps in the air, as the order to march was 
given by the new commander one evening at dusk. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


138 

All mgnt long the vast procession of Federal troops 
moved stealthily onward in the dark. At early dawn, 
September 18, 1864, they deployed in line of battle 
at the edge of a thick grove about a mile in front 
of the enemy, who were entrenched behind forts and 
breastworks near Winchester. 

About noon the Federals began the attack, which 
proved to be one of the fiercest of the war. The great 
roar of artillery and guns grew louder and louder, 
until the air quivered and the earth trembled. The 
Confederates waited, with an assured and a deter- 
mined air. As they stood within the protection of 
their defenses they gazed breathlessly at the grand 
spectacle of magnificent courage displayed by those 
brave men in blue. On they came, in the face of a 
withering fire from a hidden foe, with an indomitable 
spirit that did not waver. 

File after file plunged forward to tear down the 
enemy’s defenses, heedless of the shells which tore 
and cut great gaps in their ranks. On they went, 
again and again, through the awful din and smoke 
with an unflinching determination to win. At last, like 
the walls of Jericho, the enemy’s defenses fell. 

After five hours of awful destruction the fierce en- 
counter ended ; the works were captured, and the Con- 
federates were driven in broken ranks from the field, 
on through the streets of Winchester, and four miles 
beyond. 

The following day the victorious army followed the 
retreating enemy for nine miles, and bivouacked for 
the night near Newton. The second day they pursued 
the Rebs, about the same distance, and spent that 
night at Middleton. 

“I don’t see anything of the supply train,” said 
Jack, as Henry threw himself down on the grass 
beside him. 

"I just saw William, or perhaps I should say Lieu- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


139 

tenant Winston,” said Henry. “Doesn’t it seem funny 
to call such a young kid Lieutenant? He is the sick- 
est boy you ever saw. The officers’ supply wagon 
failed to arrive, on account of the guerillas having 
burned the bridge in the rear. As usual, William was 
very hungry, and a number of other young fellows 
were in the same fix; so they went out to forage for 
food. Some of them brought in a sheep and the 
others a beehive.” 

“Was it the sting of the bees that made William so 
ill?” asked Jack facetiously. 

“Oh, no,” said Henry, with the suspicion of a 
twinkle in his eye; “they wrapped a rubber blanket 
around the beehive until they were a safe distance 
from the farmhouse, then they built a smudge and 
soon got rid of the bees. It was the fresh mutton 
and honey that made them sick. It was all they had 
to eat, and every one of them is laid out.” 

“Well, I swan, that is too bad,” said Jack. “I had 
very little for supper, but it is much better to be 
hungry than sick. Hope some of the supplies will get 
here before morning.” 

September 22nd the army in blue came to Strasburg 
and deployed in line of battle in front of Fisher Hill, 
a low ridge running from North Mountain to the 
Alleghenies, where General Early’s army was stationed 
or entrenched behind three lines of breastworks. Si- 
lently the blue files wound into position; those in 
front began a vigorous attack, which was continued 
through the sultry afternoon. 

The smoke from the artillery and rifle shots settled 
in the narrow valley like a shadow that darkened the 
sun. The dense air seemed like a hot blast that 
fanned the upturned faces. Suddenly the terrible 
roar of cannon and rifle shots was heard to the right. 
It was the dismounted cavalry and the division of 
the Sixth Corps that had ascended the Allegheny 


140 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


Mountains and then swept down on the left and rear 
of the enemy, thereby turning their flank. When the 
roar of their guns was heard the bugle sounded the 
charge in front. 

All along the line the battle raged with a fierceness 
that was demoniacal. The sun caught the light from 
myriads of bayonets of the men in blue, who swept 
everything before them as they ascended Fisher Hill. 
On they went in a mad rush, straight at the embattled 
front of the enemy ; blue wave upon blue wave beat 
upon the enemy’s stronghold, one following the other 
in quick succession. 

On both sides men seemed hungry to kill, and their 
rushes with the bayonets had the vengeful wickedness 
of the serpents’ fangs. The lust for murder was in the 
air, and the yells of the combatants seemed like the 
cries of wild beasts. In spite of the horrible gaps in 
their ranks, the men in blue slowly but surely forced 
their way over the well-manned works and presently 
were rewarded by having possession of the three lines 
of works, five thousand prisoners, and fifteen guns; 
the enemy was fleeing in disorder. 

Upon reaching the top of the ridge, Lieutenant 
Winston heard a tremendous shout ; a little farther on, 
sitting on his splendid horse, General Sheridan was 
silhouetted. Flushed with their glorious victory, his 
troops had surrounded him so that he could not move. 
Rising in his stirrups, he said: “Boys, they’re form- 
ing again in yonder woods ; go at them !” 

Instantly every man rushed after the enemy and 
followed in pursuit until seven p. m., when they 
stopped and made coffee, then slept on their arms. In 
the morning the pursuit was resumed, and continued 
for a week without even obtaining a glimpse of the 
fleeing Confederates. 

On the seventh day the Federals emerged from a 
grove in three columns with the artillery in the center. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


141 

About four miles in front, across the New Market 
Creek, they saw the enemy cooking dinner. The bugle 
sounded on the right and left, “Into line; double- 
quick, march !” 

In a few moments there was a line of battle two 
miles long, with the artillery advancing in front as a 
skirmish line and firing on the enemy. 

“I think that was the prettiest move I’ve seen in 
the war,” exclaimed William to his companions, as 
they rushed onward with the advancing army. In less 
than half an hour they were kicking over the enemy’s 
camp kettles, the Rebs having fled, minus dinner or 
cooking utensils. After following about seven miles, 
they bivouacked for the night, but remained there 
several days. 

Being a hundred and seventy-five miles from their 
base of supplies and in the enemy’s country, the army 
of the Shenandoah was faring very badly for supplies, 
as numerous bands of guerillas were continually har- 
assing the supply trains and destroying bridges. 

“Jack, Jack!” called Henry, in the early morning. 
Finally he leaned over and shook the sleeper, as he 
said, “Come, Jack ; the supply train hasn’t come yet, 
and several foraging expeditions are to be sent out. 
William has charge of a party, and we are to join 
him.” 

Silently, several small detachments of men passed 
from the bivouac of Sheridan’s brave men, each going 
in different directions. Lieutenant Winston and his 
party were soon across the two videttes and went down 
into some lowlands, crossed a creek or two, and went 
along a dim path in the thick woods. 

Suddenly they were stopped by a worm fence lying 
squarely across their way. It was staked and ridered, 
and its zigzags were crowded with brambles and wild 
plums. A few yards to the left, still overhung by the 
woods, it turned; beyond it toward the front lay a 


142 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


series of especially well-farmed land. The rich crops 
had been garnered and sent south. 

Cattle were grazing in the field near the road. The 
fat, sleek cows reminded these men of other scenes far 
away in Vermont, where the rich cream and butter 
were plentiful. Suddenly Lieutenant Winston raised 
his field glasses with a low exclamation. Henry and 
Jack, who were standing beside him, glanced in the 
same direction. Dust, dust — one gets so tired of it! 
About a mile away a golden haze of dust floated across 
a low background of trees. 

“It’s a small detachment of the enemy, I think,” 
said Lieutenant Winston. They remained in the ob- 
scure path by the fence until the enemy had passed 
from view. Going around the corner where the 
fence turned at the edge of the woods, they presently 
came to the main road and followed the same dusty 
highway that the other group had traversed so short 
a time before. 

After a few moments’ travel, they came to a beauti- 
ful country home. A pretty young girl of sixteen or 
thereabouts stood at the front entrance, and as the 
men advanced up the gravelled walk she displayed a 
pitchfork and said spitefully to the Lieutenant, who 
was in the lead, “If you come any nearer I’ll run 
this pitchfork through you.” 

‘'Oh, you wouldn’t do anything so cruel, would 
you?” asked the young Lieutenant, in all seriousness. 
“Wouldn’t you be sorry if you saw my blood spouting 
all over, after you thrust that wicked pitchfork through 
me r 

The sanguinary picture did its work ; the girl re- 
laxed her hold of the pitchfork, and the Lieutenant 
sent it flying through the air with a deft twist of his 
sword. The girl turned and fled to the woods nea^ by. 
Guards were stationed, and a few of the others pro- 
ceeded to procure the necessary provisions. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


M3 

Ted Sutton was one of the men who went to the 
cellar, and the first thing he found was some fine, fresh 
butter; his mouth watered as he thought of the treat 
in store. But as he emerged from the semi-darkness 
of the cellar with his treasure, the farmer’s wife, who 
was very large and an unusually strong woman, stood 
on guard near the entrance, and before Sutton knew 
it, he was floored and the woman was sitting on him 
with the butter once more in her possession. 

Ted struggled to regain his prize, and in his anxiety 
he called out, “Come and help me, boys ; this is the 
finest butter I’ve seen since I left home!” Several 
rushed forward to render the desired assistance, but 
Lieutenant Winston, who had just appeared on the 
scene, gave the order, “Let him help himself ; if he 
can’t get the butter himself, let him go without.” 

The plucky woman won out, as luckily for her at 
that moment one of the guards gave a danger signal, 
and the foragers quickly surrounded their wagon 
with the provisions they had obtained. Scarcely a mo- 
ment passed from the time the warning was given until 
all were ready to withstand an attack. 

After waiting in suspense a few short minutes, only 
one man appeared. It was the farmer himself, who 
professed loyalty to the Union, and said he was glad 
to be able to provide food for the men who were offer- 
ing their lives in defense of their country. 

While listening to the farmer’s protestations, Lieu- 
tenant Winston glanced frequently toward the woods 
where the girl who first greeted them had disappeared. 
He pondered over the possibility of the father being a 
Union man, while the mother and daughter were Rebs. 
Deciding that it was much wiser to be on the safe 
side, he gave the order to return to camp. 

The farmer seemed sincere, and was so friendly 
that the young officer did not wish to seem abrupt, and 
stood talking a moment near the end of the granary, 


144 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


while the men in blue started down the road. No 
sooner had they passed from view at the end of the 
granary, than the farmer said in the friendliest tone 
imaginable, “That is a fine-looking revolver you have 
there, Lieutenant; mind letting me see it?” at the 
same time holding out his hand to receive the weapon. 

Unthinkingly, the young officer took his gun from 
the holster and had all but relinquished his hold on 
it when the look of ungovernable hatred in the other’s 
eyes caught and held his attention for a breathless 
moment. Laughing carelessly, he withdrew the re- 
volver from the other’s grasp. “I guess you don’t 
want to see this gun.” 

At the same moment he glanced over the farmer’s 
shoulder and saw one of the darkies grinning from 
ear to ear and dancing with delight as he saw the 
weapon flash in the soldier’s hand. The Lieutenant, 
without further comment, turned and started to go 
down the road after his men. A look of abject terror 
overspread the friendly darkey’s face the next instant, 
as a guerilla sprang from behind the building and 
struck the Lieutenant with such force that he fell to 
the ground and lay still. 

Ted Sutton had seen the guerilla sneak around the 
end of the building as he hurried to overtake the 
Union men. He kept his own counsel, however, think- 
ing that his time had come at last to be revenged on 
Mr. William. He was still burning with indignation 
over the butter incident. Then there was the old 
spite he held against the boy over the killing of the 
Stair dog. 

Still hugging the bitterness that had rankled in his 
soul for so long, Sutton hushed the small voice that 
spoke from his better nature and urged him to speak 
the word of warning to the loyal men who would 
rush to the rescue if they thought that their young of- 
ficer was in danger. Another thing that added to his 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


145 

bitterness was the idea of men having to take orders 
from a kid. So the evil spirit in the man prevailed, 
and he did not speak. 

Jack and Henry overtook the little band and ob- 
served that the Lieutenant was the only one missing, 
and he was nowhere in sight. They immediately re- 
turned with several others to investigate, but the in- 
mates of the house had vanished, and there was no sign 
of the Lieutenant. It looked as if the earth had swal- 
lowed him, for they had only been gone a few minutes. 

Jack saw a slight movement in the grass over in the 
orchard and, running quickly toward it, came upon a 
young darkey, who threw up his hands, as he ex- 
claimed in a horrified voice, “Lawdy, Lawdy massah; 
dey was a-gwine termuddah him!” 

The darkey pointed to a tree a short distance away, 
and then made off through the tall grass and weeds 
as fast as he could go. The boys in blue rushed to the 
tree indicated by the darkey and found the Lieutenant 
lying there, gagged and bound. With many exclama- 
tions of indignation and dire threats for all guerillas 
in general,. Henry and Jack released their young friend 
and helped him to his feet. Between them they hur- 
ried him down the road, where their companions were 
waiting. 

Just as they reached the edge of the woods they 
saw a group of men in grey and the young girl ride up 
to the house they had just left. Lieutenant Winston, 
who had quite recovered from his unpleasant encoun- 
ter, remarked to Henry, “I thought that girl had gone 
for help. Suppose the old man pretended to be a 
Union man, hoping to detain us until the others ar- 
rived.” 

As they hurried on he related the incident of the 
gun and of the blow that was struck from behind, ren- 
dering him unconscious. Ted Sutton felt guilty when 
he heard what had really happened. He had only 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


146 

thought of a good scare for their young officer, hardly 
thinking that the Rebs would be so daring as to try to 
murder him when the Union army was so near. He 
remained silent, and no one in the little camp knew that 
petty malice and jealousy had tempted one of their 
number to be a traitor. 

However, judging from the look in Sutton’s face, 
his own conscience proved a stern accuser. The little 
voice or divine spark which is implanted in every hu- 
man breast is ever ready to condemn wrong and com- 
mend right, and as each individual obeys or disregards 
the warnings, he creates a joyous atmosphere or the 
reverse. 

It was late when the little party reached their quar- 
ters, where they found every one intensely excited over 
the news that one of Sheridan’s aides and two order- 
lies had been murdered right inside the Union lines. 

General Sheridan demanded the surrender of the 
murderers within three days or he would burn every 
building within an area of five miles. When the three 
days had elapsed the guilty parties had not been 
given up. 

Jack and Henry stood in front of Lieutenant Win- 
ston’s tent, and all were gazing at the black shafts of 
smoke that rose straight to the sky here and there 
around the horizon. It was the black monument of 
many homes. Suddenly a new shaft of smoke shot up, 
and as they watched it mount higher and higher each 
moment Henry exclaimed, ‘‘Why, I believe that is the 
place where they tried to murder you, Lieutenant! 
I’m not a bit sorry to see that go up in smoke.” 

“And I’m not sorry, either,” said Jack ; “but it does 
seem a shame that the innocent must suffer with the 
guilty.” 

At that moment the Captain of their company ap- 
peared, and gave the old familiar order, “Pack up, 
and be ready to move at a moment’s notice.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


147 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

PASSING THROUGH THE ENEMY’ S LINES. 

It was a crisp, cool morning in autumn when the 
column moved forward amid the clatter of canteens 
and the fluttering of flags. The blue line swept out 
upon the turnpike and down the broad road through 
the green fields, over which the golden sunlight glit- 
tered. All over the rich and beautiful Shenandoah 
Valley terror and dismay had been spread by the 
terrible struggle where many brave men on either side 
had been claimed as victims. Hence General Grant’s 
order to fall back down the valley and destroy all pro- 
visions and stores so that the valley would be unten- 
able for the Rebel army. 

Those who waged war against the government and 
endeavored to disfigure the flag which their ancestors 
had fought so nobly to establish were brought face to 
face with the awful horrors and devastation of war as 
the Federal army hastened on the return march down 
the valley. The bitterest feeling prevailed, and danger 
lurked in the air for every lonely wayfarer. 

Lieutenant Winston was acting Aide-de-Camp for 
Brigadier-General L. A. Grant, and was kept busy 
carrying messages. Hurrying on his way early one 
afternoon to deliver a message at some distance, he 
found the road scored by fresh cuts of heavy wheels 
and the dust deepened by hundreds of hoofs. The 
roadside banks were newly trampled and torn by clam- 
bering human feet. Here was a canteen smashed in a 
wheel track, and yonder a fragment of harness. 

Turning from the highroad, he went along a north- 
erly fork for some distance, when suddenly he found 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


148 

himself in an exceedingly lonely spot. Before him 
and close on his right were dense woods, where a hun- 
dred affluent things towered and spread or clambered 
and hung from the giants of the grove. To the left 
were many fields, and as the lone traveler overlooked 
the vast area where the crops had been garnered he 
could see in the distance a beautiful manor house, 
which was near the point of his destination. 

Pausing a moment, and wondering if it would be 
safe to take a short cut through the woods, he was 
startled by the report of several shots, fired in quick 
succession, together with sharp cries of alarm and a 
command; then another and another shot rang out, 
and spread dismay across the landscape as the an- 
swering echoes added a weird and bewildering influ- 
ence to the appalling sound. 

Standing on tiptoe in the stirrups to peer over the 
row of persimmon and wild plum trees that hid the 
edge of the fence, he saw several men in grey run- 
ning toward him in a little gully that crossed the field. 
Turning quickly, he took the bridle path between the 
woods and the field. The moment he was hid from 
view in the dense forest he turned his horse, stooped 
to his neck, and made straight through the pathless 
tangle. Silence was silver and speed was golden this 
time, as the men in grey had seen him and were 
in pursuit. 

Every step met its obstacle ; there were low boughs, 
festoons of long moss, bushes, briars, broken, mossy 
logs and snaky pools. Striving on at the best possible 
speed, Lieutenant Winston felt that the crackle and 
crash he made as he pushed onward might have been 
heard a hundred yards away. After going what 
seemed to him an endless distance, he burst suddenly 
into the road and glanced quickly up and down the 
embowered valley ; then whirled to the right and flew 
onward. A wild minute so, then a turn in the road, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


149 

no one in sight; two minutes, another turn, and still 
no one. 

The thunder of his horse’s hoofs was the only sound 
he heard. A fourth turn, more abrupt than the others, 
and there was the path that he had feared ; but no 
one was in it. He drew a long breath of relief, and 
was just starting forward when a long-haired Reb 
sprang from the brush that overhung the roadside. 
Instantly he made a plunge forward to grab the reins, 
and the two men glared at each other. As two shots 
rang out simultaneously the horse reared, plunged, 
and bounded forward, and the man in grey fell with 
a groan. However, it was only a groan of drunken 
rage, as both shots had gone wild and his enemy had 
passed beyond his reach. 

Hearing the beat of horses’ hoofs in the distance, the 
Lieutenant feared that his assailant’s comrades were 
rushing to his assistance, and he leaned down to urge 
his horse to greater speed, but discovered to his dismay 
that the poor animal was lame. His pace grew slower 
each moment, at a time when speed was absolutely 
necessary. 

The thunder of horses’ hoofs came nearer each mo- 
ment, and suddenly the horsemen flashed into view 
around a bend of the road only a few yards away. 
The boy’s heart gave such a bound that it almost 
choked him as he realized that the group wore blue 
uniforms. He saluted the officer, who, fortunately for 
him, was the one to whom his messages were to be 
delivered. They were returning to headquarters, and 
the young officer gladly joined them. 

When he reported to his General, he asked to be 
excused from duty for a short time on account of his 
horse’s lameness. The request being granted, he with- 
drew into the woods near the highroad, where, through 
the thick brush, he caught an occasional glimpse of the 
men in blue marching steadily on and on. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


150 

After working diligently for some time he finally 
extracted a sharp thorn that must have penetrated the 
poor animal’s foot when going through the pathless 
tangle. Going deeper into the woodland shades, he 
took the saddle off and decided to let the animal rest 
a few hours. 

All around the humid depths showed every sort of 
green and gray. The trunks, bushes and boughs were 
bearded with hanging moss and robed with tangled 
vines. Being exhausted from the day’s strenuous ef- 
forts, this secluded spot gave the young man a feel- 
ing that he had the earth to himself, and it was very 
much to his liking. In a very short time, however, he 
was blissfully oblivious to time or place. 

After several hours he was aroused by a steady, 
indescribable murmur. Peering through the thick 
brush, he stood breathless with amazement as he 
watched an army in grey marching along the road so 
near him. Rubbing his eyes in bewilderment, and 
wondering if he were dreaming, he gazed again on the 
road where such a short time before the army in blue 
passed with the same steady tread. Alas ! the second 
look only confirmed the first, and everything around 
him assumed a grey aspect as he stood rooted to the 
spot, gazing at the grey-clad army passing in review. 

After a moment, being impelled by the instinct of 
self-preservation, he turned quickly and withdrew far- 
ther into the woods and lay down by a log in the thick 
brush and remained there until almost dark, when he 
started down the valley to try and overtake his com- 
mand. 

Hurrying along a dark and lonely path at the edge 
of the woods, he came to an old field teeming with 
sedge and the yellow rays of the sun’s last moment as 
it faded into the dim twilight. This field he overlooked 
through a dilapidated, half-broken-down fence. Far- 
ther on, among the bushes at the edge of the field, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


I5i 

stood a log cabin, and the lonely wayfarer crept up 
cautiously to see if the occupants were white or black. 

Nearer and nearer he advanced, until at last through 
a small window he saw by the dim, flickering light of a 
log fire an old colored woman and a young boy. This 
was indeed a welcome sight, and he passed the dimly- 
lighted window and knocked at the door. The boy 
opened it cautiously, and then exclaimed in astonish- 
ment, “Good Lawd, massah! What you-all doin’ up 
heah? Youah folks done gone down the valley houahs 
and houahs ago ; and de Rebs done followed dem up.” 

“I know it ; but let me get in out of the light,” said 
the Lieutenant. 

The boy stepped aside and invited him in with a 
flourish, then closed the door quickly and covered the 
window with a cloth. The old black mammy, who 
had been nodding by the fire, woke up at the sound 
of voices, and upon hearing the stranger ask if he 
could get something to eat she roused herself imme- 
diately. 

“Ah reckon you-all can have anything we got in dis 
heah house,” she said hospitably, as she bustled around 
preparing hoe-cake, bacon and coffee. 

The young Lieutenant ate his supper with a relish 
such as only hunger-sauce can supply, and thanked the 
old mammy many times for her kindness, which was 
real kindness. When he had finished he turned to the 
boy and asked, “Could you guide me through the Rebel 
lines? I will pay you well if you think you can 
make it.” 

The boy was silent for some moments, as if think- 
ing seriously of the dangers of such an undertaking; 
finally he said, “Lookaheah, massah. Ah reckon Ah 
can take you-all through, but if de Rebs kotched dis 
heah chile, why, Ah’s a gone niggah suah.” 

The old mammy, who had been listening attentively, 
interrupted him impatiently. “Sambo, you go right 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


152 

along with dis ge’man. He done fight fo* de freedom 
of us all, an’ if you get thro’ de lines you get to free- 
dom, an’ mebbe some day you kin come an’ git youah 
ole mammy.” 

Whereupon, after embracing his mother, Sambo led 
the way out into the dark night. After a brisk walk 
of nearly three miles they came to an elevation from 
which the Confederate campfires were plainly discern- 
ible, reaching from mountain to mountain across the 
valley. 

Sambo knew every road and bypath, and he led the 
way to the foothills, where they discovered that by 
climbing the mountainside over an old trail that Sambo 
remembered they could pass well above the camp. 

After traveling very carefully for some minutes the 
path led out on a very narrow ledge, and they paused 
to gaze down the steep side to where the enemy sat 
around the campfires far below. They were so near 
that it seemed if a rock were dropped from where they 
stood it would surely strike one of the group of men 
talking over the events of the day. The murmur of 
their voices could be distinctly heard by the two, who 
had cautiously started to crawl along the perilously 
narrow path. 

Far up there on the mountainside all was so still 
that only the sound of their suppressed breathing could 
be heard as they slowly made their way along the nar- 
rowing path. Suddenly a terrible crash rent the air; 
a great boulder at the side of the path on which the 
boys were resting gave way and went crashing down 
the mountainside like an avalanche, leveling every- 
thing in its path. 

Consternation reigned supreme for the moment in 
the camp below. The two boys had felt the first tremor 
of the great boulder, and their sudden spring for 
safety sent it crashing on its downward course. After 
reaching a secure footing, they stood breathless and 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


153 

terrified at the thought that they would surely be dis- 
covered. 

Seeing the men below them scrambling for a place 
of safety, they did not remain to see if any were caught 
by the avalanche, but hurried on till they were finally 
compelled to pause for breath. Then William suddenly 
realized that a greater danger confronted them. In front 
was the enemy’s picket line, more alert than the camps. 

What to do was a question that puzzled both trav- 
elers as they wandered up and down for some time 
near the picket line. At last they came to a deep ra- 
vine, in the bottom of which a little stream ran that 
crossed the valley. Descending the steep side as noise- 
lessly as possible, they started to crawl on their hands 
and knees beside the little stream. 

They heard the pickets approaching on either side, 
and they lay perfectly still, not even daring to breathe, 
while the two men in grey paused, as if listening. One 
called across to his companion, “Did you hear any- 
thing just now?” After a pause the reply came, “Yes, 
I thought I heard something move in the ravine.” 

The two who were lying so near expected every mo- 
ment to be challenged ; it seemed that even their heart 
beats must be heard at that short distance. The mo- 
ments dragged, and each one seemed an eternity. 
Suddenly the unmistakable sound of approaching 
horses broke the stillness. 

“Oh, I reckon it was only the wind rustling the 
bushes near the stream,” suggested one. The # other 
agreed, and both men hurried back along their beats 
to challenge the approaching horsemen. 

With a sigh of great relief, William and the negro 
boy crawled on. When they had reached a safe dis- 
tance they quickened their speed by running in a 
stooped position, until it became necessary to cross the 
stream, where they waded through the water to their 
knees. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


*54 

When they reached the opposite bank Sambo heaved 
a huge sigh. “Lawd, young marse, we made it safe ; 
but Ah said to mahself, ‘Ah suah am a gone niggah,’ 
when dem Rebs stood up dere so close !’’ 

Taking to the fields, to avoid an encounter with the 
cavalry pickets who were guarding the roads, they 
traveled as if on the wings of the wind, so great was 
their joy at having passed safely through the enemy's 
lines. 

After traveling what seemed to them many miles, 
they ventured out to the road; but suddenly to their 
horror and dismay the command, “Halt!" rang out 
like a death-knell, and in the dim starlight they could 
both see a gun pointed toward them. Both halted im- 
mediately, not making a point of valor or discretion. 

The Lieutenant said bitterly, “I guess we’re trapped 
like rats." The young darkey’s eyes looked like two 
white balls, as he stared at the weapon in front of 
him ; and suddenly his knees collapsed, and he fell 
flat in the dusty road. 

“Who goes there?" William’s heart leaped. There 
was no mistaking the Yankee drawl in that voice ; and 
what happiness it conveyed to the disheartened way- 
farer ! 

“A friend with the countersign,"- he cried, all the 
joy he felt expressing itself in his tone. The corporal 
of the guard with a file of men were called, and after 
giving a satisfactory explanation the Lieutenant was 
directed to his command, where he was received with 
great rejoicing; and his guide, after being showered 
with sufficient praise to warm his heart for many a 
day, was given blankets and a place to rest for the 
night. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


155 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

DO WE MEET AS FRIENDS OR FOES? 

The sun rose high in the heavens, but a heavy fog 
still hung like hazy clouds over the field, where groups 
of men in blue were scattered in dark spots here and 
there in the village of tents. The field of trampled 
clover looked as if a wind-storm had swept over it, 
strewing the contents of a dismantled arsenal. Mili- 
tary equipments were visible everywhere, and piles of 
cooking utensils, knapsacks, half emptied, lay beside 
the charred remains of fires. 

Ljeutenant Winston was sitting by the fire in front 
of his tent, watching the stragglers drifting slowly 
back from the road to Strasburg, while Sambo put 
things in order after the morning meal. Gazing with 
unseeing eyes past the smouldering fires and groups 
of men and the soldiers drifting aimlessly across the 
trampled meadow, he wondered why no message had 
reached him from home for so long. 

The vision that came to him was flashed- from the 
depths of memory. He was back at the Maples, a 
child again, and an intense longing to see the dear 
ones at home overwhelmed him. Then he thought of 
the day when his father went forward with the patri- 
otic army in blue and of how he was so cruelly dis- 
abled before even reaching the front. 

Then the young Lieutenant arose and walked about 
restlessly but with a determined look on his face, as he 
unconsciously spoke aloud, “I can’t turn back now, in 
the face of the enemy; it would look cowardly. I 
must make good.” 

Henry Lacey came into view around the tent and 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


156 

overheard the last sentence. After seating himself 
on a log near the fire, he said very emphatically, “I 
would like to know who could say that you haven’t 
made good. No one could be any more courageous in 
the face of danger than you have been. Why, you 
have faced danger and death in almost every phase of 
war without once swerving from your duty. I really 
feel as though some mystic must shield you from harm. 
You escaped from the very jaws of death the day 
you captured that flag.” 

The young Lieutenant laughed. “I must confess 
that I thought every breath I drew would be my last 
when I stood up on that fort.” Then, changing the 
subject, he added, “Do you know, Henry, I haven’t 
heard from home for months, and I was so homesick 
this morning that I felt that I simply must go home ; 
then I wondered if it would be shirking, and that is 
what called forth the remark that you heard. 

“For a time I imagined we would go into winter 
quarters here, and then we would be able to get a 60 
days’ furlough. By the way, I dreamed last night of 
being in another battle and all did not seem well for us. 
You know so many times I have seen what really hap- 
pened in my dreams some time before, and I would 
even recognize the battlefield afterward as the scene I 
had been through in my dream.” 

“Isn’t that strange ? In fact, it seems rather spooky,” 
remarked Henry, as he sat in deep thought. After a 
pause, he continued, “I often ponder over the mystery 
of how any one can foretell the unknown future. You 
know, I believe that the living can communicate 
thoughts and ideas to each other at a distance ; that 
is, space is nothing if minds are in sympathy.” 

“Oh, I know that to be a fact,” agreed the young 
Lieutenant. “You remember when papa was injured ; 
mamma knew it when she was half a mile away.” 

“Of course I remember that incident,” said Harry, 


WILLIAM MINSTON 


*57 

“because it proved conclusively to me that my theory 
was something more than a dream. Do you know, I 
often wonder if the departed spirits can communicate 
with the living. I’ll tell you what we can do : When I 
die, if it is possible, I will communicate with you ; or, 
if you die first, you communicate with me.” 

“All right ; I’m agreed,” was Winston’s ready reply. 
Then each arose and, bidding farewell to his friend, 
Henry hurried away toward his tent, before which a 
fence-rail was burning brightly. While he stood near 
the fire a nervous chill came over him, and he shook 
from head to foot with icy starts ; then he felt a 
tightening ot his heart-strings, as if caused by a 
strange premonition — or was it only the uncanny feel- 
ing from having planned to endeavor to rent the veil 
of the spirit world or solve the mystery of the un- 
known? 

The fog at last had vanished, and the bright sun- 
shine seemed to banish the gloom from the encamped 
army. As Lieutenant Winston stepped over the 
broken fence-rails upon the crushed pink heads of the 
clover he passed groups of soldiers making merry, 
and their laughter rang from end to end of the field 
and was echoed back from the grove near by. It 
seemed as if all nature rejoiced for the moment in 
sympathy with the respite of a joyous hour indulged 
in by these seasoned veterans, who had stood shoulder 
to shoulder through many trials. As they reviewed the 
past, each knew how the sinews of their army had 
been wrought by the strain of a prolonged and strenu- 
ous endeavor; now the reward of ultimate victory 
seemed to be assured. So their hopes ran high as they 
anticipated a speedy termination of hostilities. 

As Lieutenant Winston crossed the meadow and 
hurried down the road Jack Lloyd, coming round a 
bend, stumbled against him and broke into a laugh. 
“.Why, bless my soul, Lieutenant, I beg your pardon! 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


I# 

My boot caught/’ he gasped, and his face flushed as 
he straightened himself and added, “I almost sprained 
my ankle.” 

“Why are you so excited and in such haste?” asked 
the Lieutenant. 

“A crowd of the boys were discussing the probabil- 
ity of our going into winter quarters here ; the major- 
ity thought we. would. So all of the bunch decided to 
board up their tents before it should get real cold. 
There are plenty of boards, but not a nail for love or 
money.” 

“Your crowd seems to differ with several groups 
that I passed on my way down here,” said William. 
“They seemed to think that the enemy will be annihi- 
lated in less than a month, the war will be over, and 
we will be at home for the winter.” 

“Say, that sounds too good to be true!” said Jack 
enthusiastically. 

“I’m afraid it is only that the 'wish is father to the 
thought.’ There is nothing definite ; they were merely 
expressing their opinions,” said William, as he started 
on down the pike. 

“Where are you off to now?” inquired Jack. 

“Oh, I’m going to see the sights in Strasburg.” 

“Well, you’ll be back very soon, then, because there 
is only one street and not a single store in the town. 
By the way, I saw your little darkey, Sambo, down 
the street. He was in great distress because there 
were no stores. Great Caesar! Wasn’t he the happiest 
darkey you ever saw when Henry gave him the purse 
with the two hundred dollars that morning?” 

Lieutenant Winston smiled as he said, “Yes, I sup- 
pose Sambo thought that he was in fairyland. It had 
been the height of his ambition to be taken North, so 
of course he was overjoyed when the General told 
me to keep him as a servant and gave orders for his 
uniform, rations and blankets. I had paid him a 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


i59 

goodly sum for acting as my guide the night before. 
Then to have a purse made up and presented to him 
by my company was certainly a wonderful surprise to 
a boy who had never seen many dollars. No wonder 
he was bewildered when so much money was heaped 
upon him. 

“By the way, I must tell you what Sambo did when 
we were challenged by the picket 4 the other night. 
There was nothing visible but the barrel of a gun 
pointed toward us, but that together with a stern com- 
mand to halt was sufficient. Sambo stood staring with 
wild eyes for a moment and then proceeded to get out 
of the range of the dangerous weapon by lying flat 
on the ground at the roadside. 

“By Jove, I'll confess a Yankee’s voice never did 
sound so sweet to me as when that picket called out, 
‘Who goes there?’ and I realized that it was our own 
picket instead of a Rebel lying in ambush for us. 
When the corporal approached to escort us to the 
reserve Sambo had vanished ; after a moment’s search, 
however, the officer called out, ‘Here he is.’ Not 
having recognized the Yankee voice as I had, he hid 
behind some shrubs at the roadside.” 

“He evidently felt like the fellow that Henry is 
always quoting that ‘Precaution is the better part of 
valor.’ Guess that he’ll get along all right; he cer- 
tainly is no coward. He proved that when he acted 
as your guide and chanced being captured and hanged. 
I can tell you, we were mighty glad to see you when 
you arrived that night,” said Jack. Then he waved 
adieu and started on his way, whistling merrily as he 
went. 

Lieutenant Winston made his way to the quiet little 
village which had been thrown into a fever of excite- 
ment by the close proximity of the Federal troops. 
The streets were deserted, except for the dust-grimed 
veterans, who were coming and going incessantly. The 


i6o 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


stores had been closed since the first invasion of the 
valley in the early sixties, and many of the homes were 
deserted and almost in ruins. 

Pausing in front of a dilapidated house that was 
minus doors or windows, Lieutenant Winston was sur- 
prised to see Sambo emerge from the rear, with his 
hands full of nails. Hurrying forward, the young 
darkey exclaimed, “Look heah, young marse ; I found 
dese heah in de ashes, an’ now I’se gwine fix yo’ tent.” 

Suddenly they were startled by the sound of a 
young girl weeping close by. “What is the matter, 
little girl?” asked the young man sympathetically, as 
he went toward the fence upon which the girl was 
leaning. She looked up, and a terrible fear overspread 
the pale and emaciated countenance as she stared a 
moment at the blue-clad stranger and then fled in ter- 
ror. But as she vanished within the door a woman 
came out and hurried toward the fence where the 
Lieutenant stood. 

“My children have been sick, and we are starving. 
There is not a bit of food in the house ; you may come 
in and see.” 

The truth of her statement was only too evident in 
the wan face, and the young man hastened to say, “I 
believe you, madam, and I will go at once and get an 
order on the commissary for some provisions for 
you.” 

But the poor woman replied with a wail of despair, 
“I haven’t a cent to pay for the goods. My husband 
was killed and my eldest son taken prisoner. The 
children have been ill with fever, and now that they 
are better there is no food.” 

Overcome with despair, she covered her face with 
her hands and moaned. 

Then as if in a dream she heard the stranger say, 
“Don’t worry, madam; I will pay for the order.” 
Overcome for a moment, the woman gazed in speech- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


161 


less amazement at the blue-clad soldier, wondering if 
he guessed that she was an enemy; then the thought 
of her starving children banished all else from her 
mind. 

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she said 
between sobs, “Thanks — a thousand thanks — and may 
God bless you!” 

The sight of a woman in tears almost unnerved 
Lieutenant Winston, but with a supreme effort of his 
will be controlled himself. He could not speak, so 
turned sadly away and hurried back through the deso- 
late and deserted village, with head bent forward. A 
feeling of dejection had swept over him at the sight 
of want and suffering; this recalled another scene 
when he went to the east end of London with his 
mother and aunt. The longing to be home came over 
him again in his dejected mood with renewed force. 

Then as a glow of sunlight, broke through the clouds 
on the horizon his despondency faded away as he went 
on and saw the army encamped in the field before him. 
There, fluttering in the golden sunshine, was the em- 
blem that called forth the highest and noblest aspira- 
tions of the human heart. Sweetly shrill, undoubt- 
ingly insistent, is the call of patriotism to the brave 
and courageous. It called Lieutenant Winston, too. 
The force and searching energy and fire in it stole 
through his veins and drove from him the despondency 
and thought of turning back. There was something 
far above and beyond himself, something he did not 
understand. It was the spirit which held steadfastly 
the minds of so many millions to one great purpose to 
preserve the union and strength of these great United 
States. 

So it was with renewed courage and brighter hopes 
for the future that Lieutenant Winston went to rest 
in his tent after taking a goodly supply of provisions to 
the family in the village. He had found that they were 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


162 

the Ring family, and the young girl he had discovered 
weeping so bitterly was none other than the little 
singer, Myra Ring, the memory of whose wonderful 
voice had cheered him in his sleeping and waking 
dreams. 

It was a dark, chilly autumn evening; a fire burned 
in the fireplace at Mrs. Ring’s home. After having 
proper nourishment for several days a wonderful 
change had been wrought. Myra came in with a 
lighted candle and, after placing it on the table, she 
came over and sat on a little stool at her mother’s feet 
close to the fire. 

She smiled cheerily up at her mother, “The children 
are all fast asleep, mother, dear. Don’t you think they 
are much better?” 

“Yes, dear ; nourishment was all they needed. Every 
moment I breathe a prayer of thanksgiving to the 
great Giver of all blessings for the aid that came 
before it was too late.” Then, lapsing into silence, she 
rocked gently back and forth in her old-fashioned 
rocking-chair. The peaceful look on her face indi- 
cated the calm after the terrible anxiety and want she 
had suffered. 

Myra sat thoughtfully gazing into the flickering 
flames before her, as if trying to solve the many mys- 
teries that had come into her young life. She was not 
yet sixteen, but imagined there must be a hundred 
years of suffering, bereavement, disaster and want 
crowded into three or four years. Suddenly a new 
thought came, and, looking up into her mother’s face, 
she said: 

“Do you know, mamma, that young Federal officer 
who helped us was at Honey Stair’s home several times 
when I was there ; he was a private then. You know 
how terribly I hated every one who wore the blue uni- 
form. I always took special pains to disappear when 
any of the Union men appeared, and so did Agnes 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


163 

Ward. Just think, he contributed toward the fund 
that was raised to send me away to havft my voice cul- 
tivated. Then it was all returned when the children 
were taken ill again and I had to come home and help 
nurse them. It seems so strange that he should be the 
one to come to our aid now.” 

There was a knock at the door, and Myra rose 
quickly; still being afraid of the enemy, she stepped 
back into the deep shadow at the end of the fireplace. 
But Mrs. Ring immediately threw the door wide open 
and graciously invited the stranger in. It was Lieu- 
tenant Winston who entered the dimly-lighted room. 
After greeting the hostess and being presented to Miss 
Myra) he seated himself back somewhat in the shadow 
at the side of the fireplace. 

“I came, Mrs. Ring, to see how the children are, 
and also to see if there is anything more that I can do 
for you.” 

Before any reply could be made the door was thrown 
open, and a soldier in grey rushed into the room and 
embraced both mother and daughter. 

Between broken sobs Mrs. Ring cried, “Oh, my 
son! My son! Did you escape from prison at last?” 
“I was exchanged, mother.” 

At that moment a deathly pallor overspread Mrs. 
Ring's face as she turned and saw Lieutenant Winston 
standing with his revolver in his hand. Grasping her 
son’s hands, she said, “We were on the verge of star- 
vation and this young man sent us food and medi- 
cines.” Then turning with an imploring look, she 
said, “Lieutenant Winston, this is my son.” 

With a bow the Lieutenant said, “Do we meet as 
friends or foes?” At the same time he held a tight 
grip on his gun. The man in grey grasped his empty 
hand, as he said, “Why, as friends, I hope. After all 
you have done we ’feel overwhelmed with a debt that 
can never be repaid. But from my heart I thank you. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


164 

It seems difficult for me to realize that we have such a 
friend on the other side. However, your kindness is 
doubly appreciated on that account.” Then with a 
smile he added, “All brave men are friendly to the 
ladies.” 

After a few moments the man in blue bade the ladies 
farewell, and the two men went out into the dark 
night together. Just before they reached the Federal 
picket line the man in grey grasped the other’s hand 
and thanked him again and again; then he withdrew 
suddenly into the darkness and vanished from sight. 

Young Winston went forward, was challenged by 
the blue-clad picket, and, upon giving the proper coun- 
tersign, was told to pass on. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

AS SPECIAL AIDE. 

Far beyond the outposts of the Federal camp! 
stretched many miles of rolling hills and deep ravines,: 
lying between the two armies ; and in this neutral 
ground all the terrors that go hand in hand with the 
mysterious unknown lurked in every conceivable nook, 
ready to spring upon the scout or spy who traversed 
this region. Sometimes it was found to be empty of 
friend or foe ; again the deadliest enemies met, and it 
was the coolest head and the quickest and steadiest 
hand that triumphed; and with latent daring wended 
his way stealthily onward, until the important informa- 
tion was obtained and delivered to the general, who 
with masterful manoeuvre would marshal his legions 
and move immediately if the message contained in- 
formation of a threatened danger. 

Lieutenant Winston walked slowly away from his 
tent toward the front, and as he gazed at the distant 


WILLIAM WINSTON 165 

hills a vague fear oppressed him as he wondered how 
much longer his friend Kelly, the scout, would remain 
away. Then with a strange premonition he thought 
of Sheridan being called to Washington. However, 
youth is ever prone to rise above the darkest moods, 
and, inhaling a deep draught of the crisp morning air, 
he hurried forward. 

As he neared Henry’s tent he heard Jack’s voice say 
impatiently, “Isn’t this the limit?” 

“Limit of what?” asked Henry good-naturedly. 

“Yes, I should like to know, too, old man,” added 
young Winston, as he joined his friends. 

The two greeted their early visitor merrily, and 
then Jack proceeded with his grievance. “Just as soon 
as we boarded our tents at Strasburg we were ordered 
to pack up and march. We only made about two 
miles, and we’ve been here at Cedar Creek over a 
week.” 

“I’m sure that would try the patience of Job,” said 
Henry sympathetically. 

“Why don’t you get busy and make things comfort- 
able here?” suggested the young Lieutenant. “It is 
getting quite cold and there is no telling how long we 
will be here since Sheridan has been called to Wash- 
ington and Wright is in command during his absence. 
I have been detailed to be on Wright’s staff as special 
aide.” 

Just then a most desirable diversion came in the 
shape of Sambo with the mail. There were letters, 
papers and magazines for each of them. Henry’s face 
beamed as he read the message from his young wife. 
After reading it through the second time, he uncon- 
sciously spoke aloud, “It can’t last much longer. The 
war will surely be over soon.” 

“Well, we certainly hope it will end some time,” 
remarked Jack. 

Henry looked up, as he said, “I must have been 


1 66 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


thinking aloud. I only voiced the sentiments expressed 
in my wife’s letter. She wishes to be remembered to 
both of you boys, and says that you must visit us on 
your way home. You know her people have located 
in Boston, and I expect to practise law there after the 
war is over.” 

“Good for you, old boy!” cried William, grasping 
his friend’s hand. “Henry will make a great lawyer, 
won’t he, Jack? Thank Jennie for the invitation, many 
times. We’ll have the time of our lives; eh, Jack?” 

“Well, I should say! I’ll bet that Jennie will make 
the cosiest little home that a man ever had,” said Jack, 
with a broad grin. 

William opened a letter from his mother. “My 
father is almost well now, and — well, by Jove, here is 
a surprise! Sister Nell and Fred Allen were married 
two months ago. Mother says that the letter an- 
nouncing it was returned after traveling all over the 
country. Fred has been appointed as Secretary for 
the United States Minister to Great Britain, and they 
will continue to live in London. They want me to 
come over there and study under a tutor and make up 
my preparatory studies for college.” 

“By the way, William,” interrupted Henry, “what 
profession do you expect to take up?” 

“Father has always expected me to study law ; but I 
prefer mining engineering, and of course I’d rather 
go to college in this country.” 

“That’s right ; come to Boston/’ said Henry. 

William laughed, “I certainly would like to. I used 
to tease the boys over in London about their country. 
I called it a chessboard, and told them it was so small 
that I hardly dared to turn over in bed for fear I 
would fall into the sea. They were very much inclined 
to boast about a great many things, and I am espe- 
cially proud of the vast area of our country ; so I tried 
to make them feel small in some way. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


167 

“Sometime I am going to travel from East to West 
and from North to South, so as to see the country 
myself. ,, 

“Won’t that be great!” exclaimed Jack enthusiastic- 
ally. “Why not plan to have Henry and me go with 
you ? Then we could hunt big game in the Rockies.” 

“Agreed!” cried William. “Don’t you forget about 
it.” He then started glancing through Harper's 
Weekly , while the other two read the papers. “Just 
look here, boys !” And he showed them the illustrations 
of the rich mines in Virginia City, Nevada. 

“That settles it ; I’m going to study mining. Then 
I’ll go West and make a fortune.” 

As they separated Jack said, “Now don’t forget — 
keep our trip in mind, because I believe that whatever 
the mind is set upon or whatever it keeps most in view 
is what one will ultimately obtain.” 

“I believe that, too,” called back young Winston, 
and then passed from view. 

Late in the afternoon Lieutenant Winston wandered 
away alone ; something of latent daring or restlessness 
within him led him out far beyond the picket line to 
wander among the hills and ravines. After going a 
long distance he paused for a moment on a high ridge 
to gaze at the mountains in the distance. Suddenly he 
saw a long line of men in grey creeping along the side 
of a distant hill. But they were not coming in his 
direction, so he returned to his own camp, silent and 
thoughtful. 

The evening was cold, and the campfires burned 
brightly everywhere in front of the tents. Being tired 
after his long walk, young Winston was glad to be 
able to retire early. He composed himself to sleep, 
and as he lay waiting for the coverlet of forgetfulness 
to be drawn over him he thought how quiet and serene 
was the night ; then fell into a deep sleep. 

About midnight he was aroused suddenly by some- 


1 68 WILLIAM WINSTON 

one coming into his tent. “Who is there?” he asked 
impatiently. 

“Kelly, the scout,” replied the intruder. “With 
your permission I’d like to lie down here where it is 
warm.” 

“Why, certainly ; make yourself at home. Is there 
any news?” 

“Yes; I just told Wright that the Rebels are mass- 
ing on our left front at Miller’s Ford ; but he only 
grunted, and said that they only wanted to gobble a 
few pickets and to let them go it. I am certainly worn 
out after my long and hurried tramp to get here in 
time with the information.” 

The next moment he was sound asleep ; but there 
was no more sleep for young Winston. He lay wide- 
eyed in the dark, but the only sound he heard was the 
steady, deep breathing of the weary, travel-worn scout. 
It seemed hours that he lay there with a strange pre- 
monition, waiting anxiously for the first glimmer of 
light in the east. If his vision could only have pene- 
trated the dark veil that enveloped the neutral ground 
that lay beyond the Federal picket line he would not 
have remained there long. 

There all was strangely silent. But what was it 
that was unusual for such an early hour? The tents 
had vanished, and countless numbers of gray shadows 
swept silently down through the deep ravines of Fisher 
Hill. Not even the jangle of a canteen was allowed 
to break the stillness or sound a warning to the sleep- 
ing foe. 

Even the damp mist in the night air aided the ad- 
vancing hosts as it muffled into a low patter the rush of 
thousands of footfalls in the half light of early dawn. 

Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! Through the mist of the gray 
dawn rang out the appalling sound of the enemy’s 
guns. Several volleys followed in quick succession, 
and then all was quiet. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


169 

Lieutenant Winston was up and ready when the 
long roll beat at the front and a heavy desultory mus- 
ketry firing continued. In five minutes General Wright 
and his staff were in their saddles, galloping to the 
front. After about a mile they met stragglers retreat- 
ing, many of whom were rushing madly on in their 
underclothes, the enemy having swooped down upon 
them in their beds. They were coming in droves, and 
the General could not rally them. 

General Wright beckoned to Special Aide Lieuten- 
ant Winston. “Proceed to Brigadier-General L. A. 
Grant and present my compliments and tell him that 
it is my desire that he hold his position if possible/’ 

When Winston reached Brigade Headquarters and 
delivered his message the stragglers were becoming 
more panic-stricken each moment. 

The enemy struck in flank and front in solid battle 
lines, without skirmishers, and swept over every picket 
post, swallowing picket patrol and reserve, whose scat- 
tered firing was as pebbles flung into the sea. 

So swift and certain was the attack, so sure the sur- 
prise, that they were in the Federal camps ere the un- 
armed men at roll call had time to arm and form. It 
was but a matter of minutes before all were swept to- 
gether in a panic-stricken mob, on whom the Confed- 
erates turned their own cannon and mowed them down 
as they ran. 

Everywhere men heavy with sleep, their arms laden 
with their clothes, having been awakened by the at- 
tack, plunged out of their tents into the half light, 
darkened by a rolling and ever-densening smoke, in 
which they ran here and there in bewilderment. Offi- 
cers, no less confounded, raged about, desperately try- 
ing to rally the fleeing men. Here and there groups 
held for a brief moment. 

Lieutenant Winston rode back to where his own 
company with many others rallied to make a stand. 


170 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


Dismounting, he stood talking to Jack and Henry. 
In a moment the line was engaged, and Henry Lacey 
was struck by the first volley, and as he fell William 
Winston caught him. 

One glance told him that his dear old friend was 
dead. His one thought was to get Henry’s valuables 
for his wife — his money, watch and ring and the letters 
in his pocket. All this was the work of a moment, but 
in that brief space of time the Union line had retreated, 
and the bullets were coming thicker from the rear than 
the front. 

The Johnnies were advancing so rapidly that they 
were almost upon him. Turning quickly, he ran after 
his retreating comrades. The Rebels were calling 
“Halt! Halt!” while the bullets were flying so thick 
that the ground seemed to be literally boiling with shot 
and shell. Dazed and bewildered, he scarcely knew 
which way to go; on all sides the very jaws of death 
yawned, ready to swallow him. Suddenly a voice 
seemed to say, “On, on ; you must go on !” So on he 
rushed madly, desperately, and the next instant a great 
cheer went up from his friends as he stumbled in 
among them. 

One of the boys had caught his horse, so he mounted 
and rode quickly to headquarters, where he was kept 
busy carrying messages, which was a very difficult 
task, there being no semblance of a line — the whole 
army was a wreck and like driftwood on the crest of 
a wave, shattered and demoralized. Surprised and 
attacked on two sides, they scattered and ran, and the 
Confederates swept victorious over the camps of 
plenty; then the pillage began. 

All morning the roads were filled with struggling 
teams, fighting for a passage to the rear ; long lines of 
wounded staggered and lurched along the roadsides, 
desperately afraid of the plunging teams and of their 
own bleeding wounds. On either side and far out 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


171 

into the fields that bordered the roads there hurried 
hundreds of uninjured stragglers in groups of twos, 
threes, and tens. 

About noon the Sixth Corps made a stand at a 
stone wall near Middleton, and were holding the en- 
emy in check ; the cavalry and many stragglers quickly 
rallied to their support. It was then that Sheridan 
opportunely arrived upon the field, having made his 
famous ride from Winchester. His magnetic pres- 
ence capped the structure already built. 

.He immediately detailed special aides to act until 
his staff should arrive, his splendid black horse having 
outstripped the others in speed. Lieutenant Winston 
was one of the aides, and his first order was, “Pro- 
ceed to the left of the line ; find General Averal ; pre- 
sent my compliments, and tell him it is my desire that 
he hold his cavalry well in hand t'o press the enemy 
on the flank as soon as the infantry charges, and to 
spare neither spur nor sabre.” 

Young Winston saluted and galloped off to deliver 
the message. After passing the infantry, he rode 
through a thick piece of woods. Leaning on his horse’s 
neck to avoid being struck by the branches, he took 
the wrong course and ran straight into the enemy’s 
line. He heard the stern command to halt, and at 
the same instant several shots rang out, and horse and 
rider went down with a headlong plunge. It was the 
horse that had received the fatal shot, and his rider 
sprang from the saddle and like a flash made off into 
the thick brush, while the enemy called, “Halt ! Halt !” 

On he went, while the bullets were striking the trees 
like a furious hail storm and went whizzing through 
the air, then ploughed up the ground as they fell and 
were buried in the soft earth. He ran like a grey- 
hound until his breath failed him, and, gasping, he 
staggered and almost fell. 

Suddenly like a mental spectre came the feeling that 


IJ2 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


he was being pursued. Becoming dizzy, everything 
began to whirl around him, and his limbs were power- 
less to carry him a step farther. Yet keenly alert to 
the danger, he listened to the beat of horses’ hoofs 
coming nearer and nearer each moment. 

“I’d give anything in the world for a horse!” cried 
the boy aloud. The sound of his voice broke the nerv- 
ous tension, and he was able to go on again. But his 
suspense was intense as the sound of the hoof-beats 
came nearer and nearer. Suddenly he came to a clear 
space and dashed into the midst of the cavalry, but it 
was Federal cavalry, and General Averal greeted him 
with the question, “What caused the firing in front?” 

“I ran into the Rebel line and my horse was shot 
under me,” replied the young Lieutenant. When he 
had delivered his message General Averal gave him 
a horse, and he returned to General Sheridan, who 
started down the pike to the infantry line. 

The Vermonters were the first infantry he encoun- 
tered; they were lying behind a stone wall. When 
they recognized Sheridan they sprang up and cheered 
him again and again as he rode in behind the colors. 
Then he rose in his stirrups and said, “Boys, we will 
be back in our old camp to-night !” 

They cheered wildly at that ; but suddenly the enemy 
recognized the General, and they opened a terrific 
artillery fire directly upon him. But Sheridan fear- 
lessly and calmly rode on to the end of the line, speak- 
ing words of encouragement to the men of each regi- 
ment, and showed no more anxiety than if he were on 
dress parade. 

Then going to the rear, he ordered the bugler to 
sound the charge, which was quickly repulsed, but the 
Federals still held the stone wall. There was a lull in 
the battle for about an hour. In the meantime Custer’s 
brigade of cavalry was sent to the rear to bring up the 
stragglers who had guns. As they arrived they re- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


173 

ceived orders to go in wherever they saw colors and 
fight, irrespective of company or regiment. In this 
way about five thousand comparatively fresh men were 
added to the Federal forces. 

At four p. m. the order, “Advance and charge !” 
was again given. This time there was no stop. Sheri- 
dan himself went right up to the front, and rode up 
and down the line, cheering and encouraging the men. 
Lieutenant Winston, with several others of Sheridan’s 
aides, followed the General all along the line, but the 
excitement was so great that no one thought of danger. 

It was the crucial moment; each side fought des- 
perately — Confederates determined to hold what they 
had gained, and Federals determined to regain what 
they had lost. Suddenly the Confederate center gave 
way before the fierce and terrible charge of the men 
who had been driven, and, like a wounded animal at 
bay, all the ferocity of generations burst forth in this 
tremendous effort, and as one man they rushed for- 
ward to win or die. 

On and on they went, as if each man had been 
inspired by the indomitable spirit of their beloved 
General. The Confederate line was broken and the 
Federal cavalry swept in from both flanks. It was im- 
possible for the men in grey to rally or escape, and 
many threw themselves flat on the ground to avoid the 
sabres. It now became a complete rout. All sem- 
blance of a line was gone. As they faced toward the 
front once more every man rushed madly forward in 
pursuit. 

At seven p. m. they were in their old camp, with 
seven thousand prisoners, all the enemy’s baggage and 
utensils, all their artillery and their own which had 
been captured that morning. 

This was the end of the drama. Early’s command 
was annihilated and defeat changed to victory. The bat- 
tle of Cedar Creek finished forever the valley campaign. 


i74 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

HE WAITED AND LISTENED IN VAIN. 

As the gray shadows of the morning were vanish- 
ing all was confusion in this same camp. It was even- 
ing now, and the last glimmer of the daylight mingled 
with the shadows of the night. The men in blue were 
scattered in groups over their old camp, and about 
them the stragglers were drifting slowly back from 
the pursuit. 

There was no discipline, no order; regiment was 
mixed with regiment, and each man was hopelessly 
inquiring for his lost company. As Lieutenant Win- 
ston stepped over a fallen fence and wended his way 
slowly and dejectedly through the shadows he came 
upon a group of men who stood near a little campfire 
of broken fence rails ; the red light fell on each soiled 
and dust-begrimed face, and stood out grotesquely 
from the surrounding gloom. 

Some were badly wounded, but they seemed wholly 
unconscious of suffering in the excitement of the dis- 
cussion as to how they had won such a glorious victory 
after their defeat in the morning. Such a victory ! It 
had entered into their spirits, and some seemed almost 
as if drunk with wine. 

As Lieutenant Winston looked past them over the 
darkening camp where the returning soldiers drifted 
aimlessly across the patches of red light he wondered 
almost impatiently why he could not recall the exact 
location where his friend Henry Lacey had fallen that 
morning. It was the fatal shot, the fall, the seal of 
death in his friend’s face that caused him such unutter- 
able anguish. It seemed to him that if he lived a hun- 
dred years he could never forget it. 

With a deep sigh he was passing on, when Jack 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


175 

Lloyd, coming out of the darkness, stumbled against 
him. “Bless my soul, William, I’m glad to see you! 
I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

Around his mouth there was a black stain from bit- 
ten cartridges, and his face was flushed with excite- 
ment. “By George, it was a great day, wasn’t it?” 

“Where are the others?” asked William, grasping 
his arm in an almost frantic pressure. 

“The others are all right — all except poor Henry 
and Ted Sutton. Ted got a ball in his thigh. I helped 
to carry him back to the stretcher-bearers. He was 
quite cheerful, and laughed as he said he was willing 
to spare a leg or an arm to the cause. But a moment 
after we put him down and started back to the field a 
shell burst near him and he was instantly killed. I 
would much rather be instantly killed than to be crip- 
pled,” added Jack, as they both plunged into the dark- 
ness and made their waj slowly toward a campfire 
which twinkled from an old fence-rail. 

“Your darkey, little Sambo, has a coffee boiler over 
yonder in the fence corner. He’s been tearing his 
wool out over your absence. You’d better ease his 
mind by appearing on the scene.” 

“Come, then, we’ll find Sambo and drink some 
coffee and then get a lantern to find Henry’s body.” 

Ten minutes later they came upon Sambo waiting 
impatiently beside the dying fire. The negro leaped to 
his feet with a shout. “Oh, mah young marse. Ah 
nebba ’spected ter see yo’ alive ag’in ! Ah jes’ hid mah 
eyes so’s not ter see yo’ shot ter pieces when yoh fol- 
lowed de General down de line.” 

“Why, he has a charmed life, Sambo,” remarked 
Jack, as he seated himself and began to sip his steam- 
ing coffee. “I held my breath when he was caught 
between the two fires this morning and could hardly 
believe my eyes when he came up to me without a 
scratch, mounted his horse, and rode away.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


1 76 

The little darkey hid his joy beneath an accusing 
mask. “Dis yer coffee mos’ bile away, an’ ef hit doan’ 
taste like hit oughter taste ’tain’t no use ter turn up 
yoh nose, ’cause ’tain’t de fault ob de coffee ner de 
fault ob me, nuther.” 

Lieutenant Winston sat down on the blanket that 
Sambo had spread. A nervous chill had come over 
him, and he was shaking from head to foot. Sambo 
brought a cup of steaming coffee, and as William took 
it his hand was shaking so that he was obliged to set 
it on the ground for a moment ; then he raised it in 
both hands and drank it in long draughts. 

'‘That’s fine, Sambo,” he observed gratefully, as a 
warm glow took the place of the chill. “Go and find a 
lantern for me, please ; bring it as quickly as you can.” 

With their lantern casting a little circle of light 
about them the two men wended their way slowly to- 
ward the battlefield, where the dead were still lying 
row upon row, stark and cold. The blue and the grey 
were now lying peacefully side by side upon the 
scorched grass beside their guns or in the ridges of 
the ripped-up and storm-beaten earth. 

After a long and diligent search they finally found 
the body of their friend and comrade, but it was 
stripped of its own warm uniform and underwear 
which some thinly-clad Reb had appropriated. 

“What on earth do you suppose a Reb would do 
with a blue uniform?” asked Jack impatiently, after 
the long silence which had not been broken while they 
buried their friend. 

“I imagine they must have nearly perished since 
the weather turned so cold,” was William’s reply. 

“That’s right,” assented Jack. “It has been 'cold 
enough to wear two suits, and they could wear the 
blue under the grey.” Jack walked away a few paces 
and then turned to see if William were coming ; each 
had bravely refrained from referring to his grief at the 


WILLIAM WINSTON .. 


177 


loss of their dear friend, and the moment that he was 
left alone young Winston gave way to the anguish of 
his heart in all the abandonment of woe. 

Henry had been more than a friend, and he grieved 
as if for a brother. Jack could not speak, as his own 
cup of sorrow was full to the brim ; but he braced him- 
self against giving way. It was with a shudder that 
he looked over the dark field with its grim rows lying 
very still in the last long sleep. 

Then his thoughts went back to the dear old days in 
Vermont when they were happy boys together, and he 
said very tenderly, “Come, William ; we’d better go 
back to camp.” But his appeal was without avail. 
William’s reply was scarcely audible, so wrought were 
the tones with suppressed emotion. “You go on, 
Jack ; I will come later.” 

All around was dark and silent; it was a terrible 
struggle for one so young to overcome the supersti- 
tious feeling which had always possessed him concern- 
ing the dead. William felt the cold air blow into his 
face, and he saw with a brooding sympathy the field 
strewn with its dead, some frowning, others smiling; 
each one with open eyes and stiff hands grasping the 
clothes above his wounds. 

The long, dark hours of early morning seemed to 
drag and grow darker, and as the weary watcher 
waited and listened in vain for some message or com- 
munication from the spirit of his departed friend it 
seemed to him an eternity since Jack left him there 
alone. But he stubbornly resisted the desire to flee 
from the darkness and the silence. 

How little he had thought of having to do this so 
soon! He shuddered as he recalled Henry’s words, 
spoken half jokingly, “If I die first I will communi- 
cate with you, if possible, and you must do the same,” 
and his laughing, careless reply, “All right,” was now 
a solemn duty. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


178 

After what seemed to him an age of torture he fell 
into that peculiar state which comes only after an in- 
ward struggle. He had conquered his superstitious 
fear of the dead and he need no longer refuse to as- 
sist in burying them. In his own mind he felt con- 
vinced that the departed spirits cannot communicate 
with the living. At tlie moment the fear and distrust 
of his own strength had fallen from him. It was as if 
he had awakened breathlessly to find himself a man ; 
and his courage returned as he thought, “I’ll never 
believe in ghosts again as long as I live.” 

The purpose of life seemed clearer to him as if the 
large patience of the sky passed into his own nature 
as he sat there alone facing the first glimmer of the 
white dawn. At rare intervals in the lives of all stren- 
uous souls there comes a sense of kinship with external 
things, a passionate recognition of the appeal of the 
dumb world. 

As the dawn broke forth in brilliant splendor, re- 
vealing a vast sweep of sky and mountains, there 
awoke in him that thrill of tenderness he had always 
felt when admiring the grandeur of nature. And as 
he arose to go and join his friends the horror that 
had overwhelmed him faded into an emotion almost 
triumphant. 

The great field was silent, reproachful, filled with 
accusing eyes; but was it not filled with glory, too? 
He was young and his pulses quickened at the thought, 
“Since men must die, where is there a brighter death 
than to fall beneath the flutter of the Stars and 
Stripes, with the thunder of cannon in one’s ears?” 
He knew now why his father had loved a fight, had 
loved the glitter of bayonets, and the old racial spirit 
flashed anew into a flame, and, like an impulse, there 
came to Lieutenant Winston the knowledge that he 
must never lower his father’s name. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


179 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

IN WINTER QUARTERS. 

Lieutenant Winston was impressed with the 
many changes that had taken place since he sailed 
down this majestic waterway only a few months ago. 
He stood on the deck of the steamer, gazing at the 
wonderful sight that met his eyes as they approached 
City Point. 

For miles and miles to the north and to the south 
ran the high sinister lines of fresh-dug earth fash- 
ioned into forts and breastworks, which frowned with 
sullen, black-mouthed cannons that aimed with deadly 
intent at an enemy on the opposite line. 

The broad breast of the James was crowded with 
gunboats and fleets of transports which carried to the 
Union army the food which it devoured by the hun- 
dred tons daily; the vast quantities of ammunition 
with which it scourged the enemy’s lines, and the 
proportional supplies of clothing and equipments. 

Three months had passed since the young Lieuten- 
ant had been detailed in charge of the wagon train 
and twenty-three men at Cedar Creek, with orders 
to proceed to Washington for transportation by steam- 
ers to City Point. It was a long time to wait in sus- 
pense, each day expecting to obtain passage on one of 
the many transports that were constantly leaving for 
City Point. 

However, when they finally landed, after slowly 
wending their way among the innumerable heavily- 
ladened transports, he breathed a sigh of relief as he 
said to the men, “Well, after seeing that jam, I’m not 
surprised at our long delay.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


180 

Upon being informed that their regiment was sta- 
tioned on the Federal line three miles southwest of 
Petersburg, they immediately proceeded to that place, 
where they joined their old company. Jack was the 
first one to greet his young Lieutenant, and, grasping 
both his hands, he exclaimed, “Well, I swan, Will- 
iam, I’m glad to see you. I began to think you never 
were coming.” 

“Great Csesar, you folks have been eating so 
much that all the transports are loaded to their utmost 
capacity bringing food and supplies to the army,” re- 
plied the young Lieutenant, and the two laughed joy- 
fully as they hurried through the quickly-built town 
of quaint dwellings that had been fashioned by the 
men themselves from such rude materials as came 
to their hands. 

The army had settled down into winter quarters, 
and the experienced soldiers recognized the prospects 
of a long stay, and housed themselves with the great- 
est ingenuity and skill. 

“This looks as though you had not been idle,” re- 
marked young Winston, as he entered Jack’s tent, 
which had been built up with logs and a fireplace built 
at the end, where a log fire blazed up brightly. 

When they were seated near an ingeniously con- 
structed table, which held a number of books and 
some writing materials, Jack said, in reply to his 
friend’s remark, “At first we worked double shift, 
but it didn’t take long to finish building our winter 
quarters ; now we only have to take our turn in front, 
where from our places in the rifle-pits or behind the 
works we watch the enemy with the same old tiger- 
like voracity. Just as soon as we are relieved we 
march back to our comfortable quarters, where we live 
on the best, read, write and play games. But when our 
next turn comes our weapons are always ready for an 
entrance into the sanguinary game again.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


181 


“It surely is a cruel game,” said William, with a 
deep sigh. “I have just heard from Mrs. Lacey,” 
and he read aloud from his letter: 

“The news of Henry’s death proved more than his 
young wife could bear. When she received the pack- 
age you sent her containing the watch, money and 
letters she seemed to know intuitively what had hap- 
pened. Before she opened it she cried out, ‘Henry 
is dead/ and fainted dead away. After three weeks 
of suffering the anguish of her bereavement, her frail 
young heart could bear no more, and her soul fled 
from the earth and its sorrows to join her husband.” 

There the reader paused, and the two friends gazed 
at each other in silence, as if they grasped for the 
first time the full meaning of war for those who re- 
mained at home in the agony of suspense. Jennie had 
bravely said farewell when duty called her loved one 
to the front, but when that cherished life was claimed 
on the altar of freedom her heart’s blood was given 
drop by drop in a vain endeavor to offer the costly 
sacrifice and say with solemn pride, “No offering or 
sacrifice is too great for such a cause.” Her strength 
had failed, and two more lives were garnered in the 
harvest of the great reaper. 

The two friends rose in silence and turned from 
the bright glow of the fire and went out through 
the open doorway. At that moment Sambo ap- 
proached with a message from the Captain. 

“I’ll see you again, Jack, and tell you about my visit 
in Washington,” said the Lieutenant, as he hurried 
away in response to the summons. 

The sun was dropping behind the thick woods that 
almost obscured the enemy’s line of works from view 
at that point. But the long gray shadows that fell 
in spires across the village of tents seemed like a 
reminder of the black-mouthed cannon that protruded 
all along the line only a mile away. And even though 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


182 

all was silent, and not a shot had been fired since the 
two armies had settled down into winter quarters, 
the regiments took their turn regularly, alert and 
watchful. They were ever ready for an attack as 
sudden as the lightning-like dart of a cobra that sinks 
his deadly fangs into his prey. 

It had become customary for the men of both armies 
to go into the woods between the lines unarmed to get 
their firewood, and often a group of men in blue and 
a group in grey would be seen seated on a log deeply 
interested in a friendly discussion. 

One sparkling, cold morning Lieutenant Winston 
stood in his doorway when Jack came along, whistling 
a popular tune. “Hello, Jack/’ he called; “come in.” 
And they turned inside his modest quarters, where 
Sambo had just finished putting things in order. 

Jack drew his chair nearer the cosy fire. “That 
feels mighty good, yet. Wonder how much longer 
the cold weather will last. Fm tired of having to 
get firewood. Several of the boys went with me this 
morning to find a new place to get our wood, and 
when we found what was desirable the distance was 
too great. However, I decided not to come back 
empty handed. The others left me and went on until 
they came to an old plantation, where one of the 
darkies disclosed the cache of a barrel of molasses, 
and each man returned with a canteen full of the 
stolen sweets. 

“Did you hear that the President is coming down 
to City Point ? That reminds me, you haven’t told me 
yet about going to the New Year’s reception.” 

“That’s right,” said William. “Well, I certainly felt 
very proud of myself when my turn came to clasp the 
hand of so great a man. It seemed that every loyal 
resident of the Capital was making preparations to 
attend the reception, as well from devotion to the 
President as to celebrate the evont. All were on the 


WILLIAM WINSTON 183 

alert to catch a glimpse of Mr. Lincoln, and, if pos- 
sible, to have a word with him. 

“As the hour drew near, clad in my best uniform, 
I was on my way to the White House. The proces- 
sion moved slowly along, and as I came into view of 
the President and the official circle, who were con- 
spicuous in their dazzling uniforms, I began to lose 
courage, but there was no turning back then. 

/‘A moment later and the towering form of Mr. 
Lincoln loomed before me. As he extended his hand 
he inquired, smilingly, “How do you do, my boy; you 
are young to be a soldier,” and I simply replied, “I’m 
proud of it.” 

“That’s the right spirit,” he said, placing his hand 
upon my head, as his face lit up again with the most 
wonderful smile. The cordiality of the President's 
greeting dispelled my embarrassment, and I felt per- 
fectly at ease as I passed down the line and was 
greeted by Mrs. Lincoln and the distinguished ladies 
of the official circle surrounding her, as well as by 
generals and*other prominent army officers. 

“I wonder what all that shouting is about?” said 
young Winston, cutting short his narrative in the 
midst of the gay assemblage. 

They both sprang to their feet and ran out, just 
as an officer rushed past them calling “Fall in.” 

Quick as a flash the men responded. For a few 
moments pandemonium seemed to reign supreme, but 
it was just one grand rush for weapons. In about 
three minutes they were in line and were marching on 
the double-quick toward the right. Lee’s forces had 
surprised and captured Forts Meade and Hancock, 
and for a brief period the Union army was cut in 
two, the report of which caused terrible excitement 
in the North, especially on Wall Street. 

The Vermont rushed on the double-quick 

and got in the rear of the enemy, but they had ‘already 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


184 

been captured and held prisoners instead of the Union 
men whom they had surprised and held prisoners for 
so short a time. In a few hours the regiments that 
rushed to the support of those who were attacked 
were all back in their own quarters. 

From the door of his tent, where he thought over 
the events of the day, young Winston scanned the 
distance. To the north were the long lines of the 
enemy’s forts, whose guns pointed with deadly aim 
and could pour into the Union lines a lava of shot 
and shell, and he wondered when their turn would 
come for a surprised encounter with this threatening 
foe. 

As he stood watching he was suddenly conscious of 
approaching voices, mingled with loud laughter, and 
then he was aroused by the exclamation, “Well, I 
swan ; it was a tempest in a teapot ; so few engaged 
after all the rush and hurry to get there. Our com- 
pany didn’t even get to fire a shot.” 

“We were there in case we were needed; besides, 
our presence prevented the enemy’s reinforcements 
from rushing to the aid of those who were captured,” 
was the reply to the first speaker. 

William turned and saw a group of young officers 
standing near. He walked leisurely over and joined 
them. All watched the sun go down, bathing the 
village of tents in a purple and golden light, throw- 
ing a glamor over forest and plain, and making the 
far hills gorgeous with a color which spoke of peace 
and rest. But hope of this vanished as the sinister 
lines of forts met the eyes that gazed upon all sides 
of the landscape. 

The relative merits of several regiments came up 
for discussion, and, naturally, the opinions differed 
greatly, but all expressed their views and joked good 
naturedly. But William had gotten into a heated ar- 
gument with the usual narrow, bigoted and aggres- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 185 

sive individual who can brook no opposition or allow 
an opinion that is different from his own. He became 
abusive finally, and called the young Lieutenant a 
name no one with a spark of manhood can allow. 
The boy sprang toward his tormentor, with an in- 
articulate cry of rage, but one of his friends caught 
him by the shoulders and whirled him around just 
as he struck out with his clenched fists. 

“For heaven’s sake, boy, control yourself. The 
fellow is your superior officer, and it would be your 
ruin to strike him.” 

In the meantime others in the group had hustled 
the protesting officer off in a different direction. 

That night, through hour after hour, young Win- 
ston tried in vain every device he knew to produce 
that monotony of thought which sometimes brings 
sleep. Again and again, as he felt that sleep was 
coming at last, the thought of that name which in- 
sulted the most sacred of women, his mother, roused 
him to renewed fury. And as he realized more deeply 
that there was no redress ; that, because the man was 
his superior officer, the insult must be swallowed, his 
hot, young blood burned through his veins like vivid 
flame. 

Just such a surging, thrilling flood he had felt in 
the surgeon’s chair in London when the anesthetic 
had been given for the operation on his eyes. But 
this wave of sensation led to no oblivion, no last 
soothing intoxication. Its currents beat against his 
heart until he could have cried out from the mere 
physical pain, as he grew cold under the torture of 
it. His whole being scorned a coward. If only he 
did not see ; but he did see, and many were pointing 
the finger of scorn at him for quietly submitting to 
such an insult. With a great effort of the will he 
finally determined to hide from these agonies of the 
imagination. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


1 86 

Then, at last, sleep, which is the only refuge to a 
lacerated heart, came, with its sweet oblivion, but not 
for long. The sun was just peeping above the horizon 
when he was wide awake again. 

Getting up, he resolutely endeavored to banish 
thought from his mind. The morning was bright and 
sparkling, but all was quiet in the camp. As he was 
about to start out for a long walk he noticed a letter 
lying on the table. In his agitation he had failed 
to notice it, and Sambo had not called his attention to 
it. Now, however, with a strange premonition, he took 
it up. The hand-writing was that of his sister Nell. 

Going out into the fresh morning air, his mind was 
suddenly swept into a new atmosphere. He was 
vaguely conscious that a curtain had been dropped 
on the visions he had seen, and his mind was in a 
comforting quiet. He saw no one, not even Sambo, 
as he hurried away to the forest nearby, where he 
could be alone. 

He went on and on, without thought of the dis- 
tance he traveled ; not being sure of his power of re- 
sistance, he fled from the temptation he felt to trample 
the pressure of the rulings of the life around him. 
There was safety in distance, while his whole being 
was sore and hurt over a ruling that gave to some a 
false lure of freedom from restraint. 

“Only a cowardly cad would do anything of the 
kind,” he said aloud. Then his anger came back with 
overwhelming force as he brooded over the injustice. 

At his father’s knee, when a very small boy, he had 
listened to stories of the Mexican War — stories breath- 
ing only the pure patriotism of a loyal heart; which, 
in turn, inspired in the boy’s heart a love and rever- 
ence for the high ideals of this mighty republic. In 
his visions her destiny was to be the highest, and her 
achievements were to be the greatest of all the nations 
of this earth. The land he loved always held first 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


1 87 

place in his affections, and no sacrifice seemed too 
great to preserve inviolate the principles for which she 
stands pledged. 

W hen the call came in the hour of need he answered 
voluntarily, and with whole-souled devotion to the 
cause, and for nearly three years he had been faithful 
in serving in the defense of a nation that proudly 
unfurled a banner that championed the cause of lib- 
erty, true manhood, and justice to all alike; not only 
to her own people, but to all nations, this great em- 
blem of liberty is a torch which throws its light 
across all the broad seas and lands wherever human- 
ity is oppressed, beckoning and cheering wherever 
men suffer and hunger, and guiding the weaker ones 
to a place where God is building up a mighty nation 
that will eliminate all evil and usher in universal 
peace. 

Is it the silence of the mighty forests, vast prairies, 
mountains and plains that radiate a spiritual and 
divine power, which is felt by the people, inspiring 
them with lofty ideals, giving strength, a spirit of 
activity, and a desire to accomplish great things ? 

At last young Winston stood still a moment in the 
rush of shadows that the wind chased through the 
woods, and for the first time the scene recalled the 
grove near the Maples, where he went as a little boy 
with his childish griefs. The charm of nature always 
appealed to him with impelling force, and here, where 
the giants of the forest towered heavenward, revealing 
evidences of the mighty power of the Infinite, in the 
shadow of which is rest, he sat down, feeling a 
throbbing force of sympathy that soothed his sore- 
heartedness as he thought of his parents and his 
sister. 

In fancy he was back again in his old home in 
Vermont. So real was the vision that when he closed 
his eyes it seemed as if he could gaze at the lake, 


1 88 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


where he had spent so many happy days. Suddenly 
he remembered his letter from Nell, which he had ab- 
sently thrust into his pocket, without even opening it. 
There had been a little jealousy in his heart when he 
realized that Nell’s husband held first place now. 

Presently he roused himself and, opening his letter, 
read it swiftly. As the warm wind suddenly sweeps 
across the cool air of a summer evening, for an in- 
stant, suffocating and unnerving, so the brief message 
which his sister Nell’s letter contained swept across 
William’s already over-wrought spirit. His breath 
came quicker and his eyes half closed. One sentence 
stood out from all the page, clear and benumbing: 
“Father died very suddenly.” 

A flood of feeling swept over the lonely boy, smoth- 
ering him for a moment in its impulses and pent-up 
forces. His head fell into his hands and a sharp cry 
of misery broke forth in one tearless moan. No tears 
came to relieve the pent-up emotion, and he sat so 
still and silent that it seemed as if he were turned 
to stone. 

After what seemed an endless period, strange voices 
woke him from the trance of memory that had been 
upon him and he slowly became conscious of a group 
of men in gray standing before him. One face looked 
strangely familiar, and as their eyes met he heard the 
command, “Bring him along, boys; I reckon we’ll 
have to take him to Libby.” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

WHERE HAVE I SEEN THAT FACE BEFORE? 

The group of Confederates hurried along with their 
prisoner, but all were not in favor of taking him to 
Libby that day, so they finally agreed to leave him 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


189 

securely locked in an old cabin near the edge of the 
forest until the question should be amicably settled. 

David Ward agreed to take charge of the prisoner, 
as the cabin was near his home, where he was spend- 
ing a short furlough. It was late when he brought 
food and water to the cabin, and as he opened the 
door the smallest possible space, so as to put the 
scanty supply of food within, he saw the face of the 
young prisoner, which was ghastly pale in the dark 
shadows that enveloped him. 

David closed the door quickly, as if fearing his 
prisoner might attempt to escape, but in reality he 
felt a strange impulse to release this young boy, 
whose face looked so strangely familiar. The set- 
ting sun was obscured from view by the dense forest 
that ran along the western horizon, casting long, dark 
shadows along the pathway as he hurried homeward. 

“Where have I seen that face before?” he asked 
himself, aloud, as if in fancy he penetrated the gloom 
of a dense forest far away. 

“Honey Stair has come ; Honey has come, David,” 
cried a sweet, joyful voice, and David looked up to 
see his sister Agnes running to meet him. He stared 
at her for a moment with unseeing eyes. 

Pausing a moment in surprise at the indifference 
with which David received her news, she said, “What 
has happened, brother? One would think that you 
were weighed down with some terrible secret.” 

At that moment Honey joined them, and after 
greetings were exchanged the three entered the house, 
laughing merrily. After the evening meal was over 
David’s attention was attracted by the sound of ap- 
proaching hoof-beats. Going to the door, he saw the 
rider rein in at the gate, and he went forward to greet 
his friend A1 Breton, who leaped from the saddle 
and grasped David’s hand, whispering something that 
was meant for no other ear. 


190 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


Quick as a flash David turned and ran to the barn, 
and a moment later came back with his horse sad- 
dled. Passing the front window, he waved good-bye 
to his mother and the girls, and called to them, 
“Prince has been stolen. We’ll try and catch the cul- 
prits and then go on to Petersburg.” 

When the three ladies reached the veranda David 
and A1 had disappeared in the darkness, and only the 
vanishing sound of the horses’ hoof-beats on the hard 
road came to them from the distance. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE PRISONER’S MENTAL ANGUISH AND DREAMS. 

When William heard the key turned in the heavy 
door an impenetrable gloom settled upon him. The 
hope that he might in some way escape from his 
captors had not for a moment failed to keep strong 
his courage. But now he saw no way of escape, and 
Libby loomed up before him with its terrors increased 
tenfold. 

During the three years of service he had faced 
death unflinchingly, but to be taken prisoner had 
always been his greatest dread. And now, when he 
felt no shadow of such a danger, it came all at once, 
with everything else, as if a cruel fate had long ago 
designed a hub of danger and disaster, the spokes of 
which seemed to be flying to it from all over the com- 
pass to make a wheel that he could not escape, but 
which would mercilessly grind him when he could 
least resist the forces working against him. 

Hour after hour passed ; the stars wheeled on, and 
the moon stole to the zenith, majestic and slow. There 
was something antagonistic to dejection in William’s 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


191 

nature, and his own altruism nerved him to hope and 
effort. His unconquerable optimism rose to the sur- 
face. Going to the heavily barred window, he found 
that a corner of one pane of glass was broken. With 
a shrill cry he called ‘‘Help ! Help !” hoping his friends 
would be searching for him and would hear the call. 

Standing by the broken window, the lonely young 
prisoner continued to call at intervals, until it suddenly 
dawned upon him that he had left without leave of 
absence, and no one could have the slightest idea of 
his whereabouts. Having allowed his anger to domi- 
nate his whole being, all thought of reason or discre- 
tion had been eliminated from his mind. Now, when 
it was too late, the awful significance of the situation 
overwhelmed him with sudden and terrible force. 

Sinking to the floor, he buried his face in his hands. 
“Dishonored and considered a deserter/’ he thought, 
and the words seemed to burn into his very soul with 
a sense of awful futility. For almost three years he 
had done his duty like his comrades and had served 
faithfully in the cause he loved. Now every hope 
seemed smitten and all his dreams were shattered. 

Was it, then, all ended? Had his years of faithful 
service counted for naught, and was his love and pride 
in it undone ? How large the small issues had seemed 
before having to face this momentous situation. Now 
he thought bitterly that he might die here, like a rat 
in a trap, but that weighed lightly in the balance com- 
pared with the thought of being counted a deserter by 
his friends and comrades. 

His whole being was in a maelstrom of agony, his 
lips were parched, his veins afire. Springing from 
the floor, he walked from end to end of the small 
room in an angry rage, clutching the air as if fight- 
ing for freedom from some visible cord that seemed 
tightening around him. But when at the crest of 
this wave of anger, words that he had heard one night 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


19 2 

long ago on the lake far away In Vermont flashed 
into his mind — the words of his sister Nell, as she 
sat with her arm around him in the boat: “You must 
endeavor to control your temper, dear, or it will often 
bring you to grief.” 

Suddenly he paused ; the scene in camp swam before 
his eyes — got into his brain. He remembered the in- 
sult, which was more than sufficient cause for his 
indignation. It seemed an age since then, and as he 
realized that if his own passionate temper had been 
controlled or held calmly within bounds he need not 
be held a prisoner at this moment, an intense longing 
possessed him for a draught of the one pure tincture 
which would brace his heart to withstand the spears 
of this trial. He sank upon his knees and whispered 
a few broken words that no one on earth was meant to 
hear. 

Then he passed into a strange and moveless quiet — 
quiet of mind and body, absorbed in a sensation of 
existence between waking and sleeping, where doors 
opened to new experience and understanding; where 
the mind seemed to loose itself from the bonds of 
human necessity and find a freer air. At last he dozed, 
only to fall under the conjuring effect of dreams, in 
which his many griefs dominated with the added force 
of a relieved fancy. 

The pictures which his dreams thus brought before 
him were startling and never to be forgotten. The 
first was a desert stretched out before him. Limitless, 
with the blazing colors of the arid sand, topped by a 
cloudless sky, it revealed but one break in its monoto- 
nous expanse, one suggestion of life, which in that 
herbless, waterless, shadowless solitude meant death. 
He stood in the midst of this desert, stretching un- 
availing arms to the brazen heavens. 

Then, as if by magic, he felt a consuming sense of 
power which found its way to the deepest recesses 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


193 

of his being, as if inspired by the living, beating vital- 
ity of the soul of the desert. 

Out upon the sea of sand, where the descending 
sun was spreading a note of incandescent color, there 
floated before his vision another scene. He was at 
the New Year’s reception, the President held his hand 
and smiled as he said, with a fatherly interest and ten- 
derness, “You are young to be a soldier, my boy.” 

Suddenly the brilliant assemblage vanished. Will- 
iam was alone with the President, telling of his grief, 
anger and imprisonment, with the same assurance 
of sympathy as if he were talking to his own father. 
Looking up, after all had been told, he felt a keen re- 
morse for having added a pang of sorrow to this 
great commander, whose love and sympathy for man 
was so great that he seemed to become whatever 
sufferer he saw. 

As William gazed at the sad, wrinkled face he felt 
that every pang the nation had suffered must have 
cut a line in that face. Forgetting his own trouble, 
the boy bowed his head in grief and sympathy for 
the other’s sorrows. Then he heard the President’s 
voice, which seemed to have a soothing influence as 
he said: “Of course, he had no right to insult you, 
my boy.” 

There was a pause, and then, as if unconsciously 
speaking his thoughts aloud, the President continued : 
“A nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the 
proposition that all men are created equal, the spirit 
of liberty and equality permeates the very air and 
the innermost being of the people. The patriotic de- 
sire to preserve this great principle is what caused 
a million men to respond to my call. 

“They are not fighters by training, as if soldiering 
for a living, but by honest impulse they are patriots, 
who know how to suffer for a great idea ; and, being 
inspired with the divine flame of a great and un- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


194 

selfish purpose, they have gone bravely and nobly 
to the front, and those who are baptized in the fire 
of a battlefield are lifted to a higher plane, and all 
have one rank.” 

Then all was silent, and they seemed to float on 
the broad breast of a majestic river. Suddenly, in 
the distance, the Confederate flag could be seen wav- 
ing in the breeze, and both watched it in silence. 
Finally the President said: “I have sometimes won- 
dered why God has allowed that flag to be unfurled 
in irony to the breeze of heaven for so long.” His 
voice seemed to catch. 'That was wrong,” he con- 
tinued ; “I should have known that the sight of it 
was to be our punishment. God cleanses us of our 
levity with the fire of trial. Trials, bravely with- 
stood, develop courage, strength and the sterling qual- 
ities of the soul which enable one to see clearly what 
is right and dare to do it ; while ease and comfort 
develop only cruelty and indolence — the two faults 
that are really of any consequence.” 

Looking up, William met the gaze of the Presi- 
dent. The smile passed from his face, and an ex- 
pression of ineffable longing, sympathy and tender- 
ness came upon it. Then he was gone. For a space, 
while his spell was upon him, the boy did not stir. 
Then a sense of awful loneliness came upon him, and 
he awoke suddenly to find that he was still a prisoner. 

Through a faint glimmer of sunlight he could see 
the bare emptiness of the dark, gloomy, dungeon-like 
prison. The memory of the dream remained vividly in 
his mind, and hour after hour passed while he conned 
it over and over again. 

Several days passed and no one came again with 
food or water. The prisoner’s suffering became in- 
tense and he stared vacantly with bloodshot eyes, 
swollen tongue and parched lips, longing for water. 
He sat as still as the walls around him. Suddenly 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


195 

he was conscious of a vision forming itself before his 
eyes. At first it was indefinite and vague, but at last 
it became a ship in the gloom of a storm and an angry 
sea. 

Stars flecked the zenith and shed a pale lustre on the 
skurrying clouds and turbulent waves. On one of 
the waves was a little girl, alone, with face set toward 
certain death. Then the storm ceased, and, as the 
moon burst into view from beneath the dense clouds, 
the deck became wholly visible. It was the ship on 
which he had returned from London. 

As he gazed, like one entranced, he saw the figure 
of a girl before him, pale, agitated and beautiful. 
But suddenly a mist closed in again upon the scene, 
a depth of darkness passed his eyes, and he heard a 
voice say, “Courage; don’t despair.” 

The voice was as distinct as though the speaker 
stood before him, and it was the same voice that he 
had heard so often before when on the brink of 
awful and terrifying eddies and almost engulfed in 
the dangerous whirlpools of disaster. Was this an 
omen that help was at hand? 

With a terrible effort he endeavored to rise, but 
sank to the floor again. “I must! I must!” he said 
desperately, as if a voice were crying from his soul’s 
depths and he felt that he must follow it. One more 
desperate effort, and he was on his feet. Trembling 
from exhaustion, he summoned all his force, and 
the call “Help ! help !” broke the silence. 

Then, leaning heavily against the wall near the 
window, he listened intently. Suddenly the sound of 
approaching footsteps fell on his ears. Was it a 
friend or a foe? His heart leaped with a joy so in- 
tense that it hurt his throat as he heard some one at 
the door. 

There was a grating sound, but after a pause of 
breathless suspense the door still remained closed. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


196 

What was that? A girl’s voice calling for help to 
open the door. The moments passed and each seemed 
endless to the suffering listener, but no sound of the 
approach of the expected deliverer reached him. At 
last, through the small barred windows, William saw 
two girls walk slowly away and disappear in the thick 
woods. 

The joyful anticipation of the previous moment now 
changed into such overwhelming despair that he fell 
to the floor with a heavy thud and remained so still 
that it seemed as if death in mercy had come to re- 
lieve the sufferer. 


CHAPTER XL. 

A FAMILIAR VOICE. 

Wilston, the beautiful old manor house on the 
James, had been reduced to ashes ; the slaves had left, 
the plantation was devastated, and wreck and ruin 
were done. Mrs. Ward, with only two faithful ne- 
groes, had taken up her abode at one of their small 
plantations in the midst of the forest. 

Agnes arrived from Washington in late autumn, 
and since then the gloomy days had seemed intermin- 
able, and she suffered an intense restlessness from 
the quiet tranquillity of her surroundings with their 
aspect of listless patience. At times she longed for 
a wide, clear space through the forest, so that the 
horizon would be open to her view. She thought that 
perhaps then she would not feel so shut in. 

When a squadron of cavalry swept along the turn- 
pike her heart followed it like a bird, while she leaned 
with straining eyes against a pillar. Then, as the last 
rider was blotted out into the landscape, she would 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


197 

clasp her hands and walk rapidly up and down the 
porch. 

During the long siege of inactivity while the army 
was in winter quarters and nothing was being done 
to crush the enemy Agnes grieved and worried, and 
would lie awake at night wondering where the pro- 
visions for the army were to be obtained if the strug- 
gle was continued much longer. Everything they 
could spare had been sent to the front, and it was so 
little compared with what they had been able to for- 
ward to the commissary department from Wilston 
while the slaves remained with them. 

Like all good mothers, Mrs. Ward was ever watch- 
ful and alert for every movement in this life where 
the footsteps of her child’s happiness were falling by 
the edge of a precipice. The bloom had faded from 
Agnes’ cheeks ; the nervous strain had been too great 
for one so young to be without the companionship of 
those of her own age to divert her thoughts, for a 
time at least, during the dark, dreary and anxious 
weeks, while all were in an agony of suspense. 

In her heart Mrs. Ward greatly welcomed Honey 
Stair when she arrived in reply to her pressing invita- 
tion to come and visit them. A joyous look flashed 
into the mother’s eyes as she watched the two girls 
together and saw the old bright smile come back to 
her child’s face as she endeavored to extend a warm 
welcome to her friend, who possessed a downright 
frank nature. 

The humorous glimmer in Honey’s dark eyes and 
the dry truth of her speech appealed to Agnes. There 
was no one whose friendship she prized more. Sev- 
eral days passed quickly ; time seemed to fly as if on 
the wings of the wind, so engrossed were the girls 
in recounting and talking over all that had occurred 
since they parted in Washington a few months before. 

One bright, crisp morning Mrs. Ward and the girls 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


198 

began to sew earlier than usual. Honey vaguely 
noticed, for the first time, how pale Agnes looked 
as she bent over her needlework ; how pale and yet 
how composed. It reminded her of her own effort 
to be brave after their misfortune had swept every- 
thing away in its path, leaving in its wake only ruin 
and despair. 

Agnes had not uttered a word of complaint or grief 
concerning the loss of the beautiful old home where 
the Wards had lived for generations. These thoughts, 
however, were only a swift and passing impression, 
for all were concerned with but one absorbing 
thought, the Confederate cause, and what would be 
the outcome after the long struggle. 

There was something strangely still in the three 
who sat in the plainly furnished room, each busy with 
her work and thoughts. Honey withdrew her eyes 
from Agnes’ face and they wandered helplessly over 
the room. They saw, yet did not see, as if there were 
some subconscious sense softly commenting on the 
changed conditions that were so strikingly evident, 
but persistently ignored, by mother and daughter, who 
were as queenly and gracious in this simple abode as 
they had been in their mansion on the James. 

Through these years of war had come to them a 
gray mist of endurance and self-control and an almost 
austere reserve ; yet beneath it all, behind it all, each 
felt the throb of a wildly beating heart. 

They worked steadily all morning; then, after eat- 
ing sparingly of the noonday meal, which they had 
prepared themselves, they sat down once more to their 
work ; there was so much to be done. Suddenly 
Agnes looked up and said, “I don’t understand why 
David has not returned. It is all waiting, waiting, 
waiting ; nothing else. Something must happen, 
mamma, or I shall go mad.” 

“But what should happen?” asked Honey, who sat 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


199 

near the window. “Surely you don’t want a battle, 
Agnes !” 

Mrs. Ward shuddered. “Don’t tempt Providence, 
dear. Be grateful for just this calm. Go out for a 
walk in the fresh air. You and Honey might take a 
pitcher of flaxseed tea to Aunt Sue’s cabin before you 
start out for your walk, and ask how she is to-day.” 

The two girls hurried away for their wraps, and then 
came back for the pitcher. Aunt Sue stood in the 
door of the one cabin that was occupied in the negro 
quarters only a short distance away. Seeing the girls, 
she forgot her rheumatism for the moment and hob- 
bled down to the gate at the roadside to meet them. 

Agnes handed her the pitcher, exclaiming joyfully, 
“Oh, Aunt Sue, I’m so glad you are better. We’ll 
have something mighty good to eat pretty soon now, 
won’t we?” 

The faithful woman’s face lit up with a pleased 
smile at this praise from her favorite. “I’se a goin’ 
to cook you all de bes’ suppah yo’ evah tasted, so 
doan you go fah away.” 

“We won’t, Aunty,” laughed Agnes, over her shoul- 
der, as she paused a moment where two roads di- 
verged — one led toward an old cabin at the edge of 
the forest close by. Turning to the right, they took 
the fork of the road that led into the woodland 
depths. 

The scene recalled to Honey’s mind the grove near 
Wilston. But it was the striking contrast that im- 
pressed her. There was no stream or lake, and there 
were no happy little darkies singing in the negro 
quarters. But no reference was made to the dear old 
place where they had spent so many, many happy days 
together. No vain regrets were uttered, but each 
remained silent as they went on and on, bent upon 
seeking the joy of the present. 

Philosophically turning everything into the poetry 


200 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


of the moment, they were even charmed with the dead 
trees in tatters of long gray moss, as well as the great 
giants of the grove, whose trunks were bearded with 
soft green moss and robed with tangled vines. When 
at length they turned to retrace their steps Honey 
saw a new light in her friend’s eyes, and she said, 
“Why, Agnes, your eyes are as big as saucers. You 
look as if you had been seeing things besides the bare, 
leafless trees in this rough old forest.” 

“Yes, I’ve been seeing things,” Agnes answered, 
with a dreamy smile, which came from a new-born 
purpose — the dream of an idealist. “I must tell you 
my secret, Honey. This rugged old forest is like a 
wonderful book, or rather it tells me its mind with- 
out reserve, delivering the most wonderful stories, its 
most cherished secrets, as if it uttered them with a 
voice. It seems so wonderful ; it has a new story to 
tell each day that I come here.” 

Suddenly they were startled by a moan, then a cry, 
“Help! Help!” Turning quickly in the direction from 
which the sound came, they saw the old cabin they 
had passed, and as the call was repeated and the echo 
resounded through the forest in tones of a hopeless 
wail of anguish, Agnes listened intently with a startled, 
far-off look in her face, as if the voice she heard 
flashed upon her mind some vivid scene or thrilling 
event in the past. 

Going forward to the cabin door, with trembling 
hands she vainly endeavored to open it. She found 
that it was securely locked; the one window was 
barred, and the lower part boarded, so that entrance, 
or even a peep into the interior, was impossible. At 
that moment a Conferedate soldier came into view 
only a short distance away. Agnes called to him to 
come and help open the door, but the soldier did not 
even pause to reply, but hurried on his way, a moment 
later disappearing from view. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


201 


Agnes turned again to the cabin door and listened 
breathlessly for some sound of that voice that seemed 
so strangely familiar. Going away slowly, they paused 
a moment where the two roads diverged and listened 
again, but no sound reached them, so the two girls 
went on, wholly unconscious of the hopeless anguish 
that overwhelmed the lonely prisoner who watched 
them from the cabin window and wondered if what 
he saw were a part of a vision or the hallucination of 
his tortured brain. 

A vague fear impelled Agnes to quicken her steps, 
and she gazed helplessly at the sunflecked path, as if 
hoping the faint glimmer of sunlight that penetrated 
between the branches above her would by some chance 
convey to her mind a plan by which she might release 
the prisoner. 

Suddenly they emerged into the open space by Aunt 
Sue's cabin, and there was Agnes' favorite horse 
Prince standing by the gate, with bridle and saddle 
on. He had evidently escaped from his captors. 
Agnes sprang forward with a set, determined look 
in her face. “I'm going after brother David,” she 
said, and before Honey recovered from her surprise 
and dismay at the thought of the danger lurking on 
all sides, Agnes and Prince were fast disappearing 
along the turnpike. It was an even chance between 
life and death for any one who ventured alone through 
the dense forest, and as Honey stood gazing after her 
friend she felt as if she were choking, and it seemed 
that her heart beat as loudly as the hard thud of the 
horse’s hoofs. But Agnes urged her horse to full 
speed ; they plunged into the shadow of the forest, 
and in a moment were lost to view. 

The memory of a voice that had remained with 
Agnes for years came to her now, and suddenly she 
recalled words uttered long ago and almost forgotten : 
“I feel that some day I will be able to help you in 


5202 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


return for this,” rang in her ears. All thought of 
danger vanished, and the great hope of saving a life 
caused the girl to lean forward and whisper, “On, 
Prince, on!” The faithful horse heard the whisper 
and answered to it. At every stride of his powerful 
body his speed increased, until his swiftly flying hoofs 
seemed scarcely to touch the ground. 

Faster and faster over the well-beaten path, through 
the bog, never slackening, though the horse’s hoofs 
sank deep in the spongy earth. Suddenly Agnes heard 
the sound of hoof-beats steadily advancing, and her 
cheek paled at the thought of an invisible foe in pur- 
suit in the rear, and before her a ravine loomed black 
and formidable. For a moment it seemed like an im- 
passable abyss. 

Leaning forward, the girl whispered, pleadingly, 
“Take the leap, my Prince, my beauty; you can; you 
must!” A moment of suspense, then the ravine was 
past and the girl breathed a prayer of thanks for the 
gift of mastery over horses, as she passed on in safety 
while her pursuers’ horses stubbornly refused to take 
the leap, and the priceless treasure of a few moments’ 
time enabled her to escape and reach her brother 
David, who was on his way home. 

They met at the crossroads, and, taking a short cut 
through the forest, they eluded the outlaws, who 
were endeavoring to re-capture Prince. It was dark 
when they drew rein at the gate. “You hurry on to 
thhe cabin, David, and I will tell Uncle Zack to take 
Prince to his hiding place,” said Agnes, breathlessly, 
as she leaped from the saddle before David could 
come to her assistance. 

Honey was standing on the veranda, and she ran 
forward eagerly to meet her friends. Uncle Zack 
could not be found, so Agnes and Honey led Prince 
away in the dark. They rejoiced at the denseness of 
the gloom around them, as it seemed like an impene- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


203 

trable wall that would shield them and Prince from 
any lurking foe. 

Suddenly a shot was fired. Then the sound of a 
hoarse shout penetrated the gloom of the night and 
was re-echoed through the forest ; then there was deep 
silence again. The two girls paused abruptly, but the 
only sound that reached them was the throbbing of 
their own hearts as they remained rooted to the spot, 
while black uncertainties, massed, multiplied and ag- 
gressive, rose before them, caught at their throats and 
held them like a vice in an agony of suspense. 

Boom! Boom! Through the darkness the guns of 
two opposing foes were pouring shot and shell with 
such rapidity that a glare of fiery lava seemed to flow 
in streams at the edge of the forest just beyond the 
old cabin. In the varied flashes of light, blue and 
gray-clad soldiers were plainly visible. 

Agnes and Honey forgot their errand, and both ran 
to a cave nearby, and after entering this secure re- 
treat, which afforded protection from the fiery darts 
without, each wondered if it would be a long battle, or 
if there were only a few of the Union soldiers. 

Suddenly they were startled by what seemed to be 
approaching footsteps. They withdrew farther into 
the cave. The darkness was intense, so they stood 
side by side, leaning against the farthermost end of 
the cave, where they remained perfectly silent. The 
next moment they discovered that it was only Prince 
nibbling the boughs at the mouth of the cave. This 
relieved the nervous tension. “Poor old Prince; I 
fear he has had very little to eat since he was stolen, 
and I did not give him a bite before taking that long 
ride.” There was real grief in Agnes’ tone as she 
spoke, and her sentence ended in a sob. 


204 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


CHAPTER XLI. 

we’ll have half a dozen prisoners. 

Al Benton buried his heel in the ground, then 
walked rapidly to and fro, while intense and passion- 
ate hatred filled him with a tumult of dark desires for 
vengeance against any and all foes of the cause he 
served. The firing had ceased and David Ward hur- 
ried up to him, saying, “We have them surrounded, 
and the Captain gave orders for us to get horses and 
to bring the boy in the cabin.” 

“Good! We’ll have half a dozen prisoners to take 
to Richmond to-night, instead of just one,” said Al, 
excitedly. 

It was near morning when Al and David finally 
gave up the search for horses. Not one could be 
found. Even when they approached Prince’s hiding- 
place, feeling confident that he would be safe, the 
place was empty. Weary and discouraged, they 
wended their way slowly toward the camp, where 
their comrades were waiting. 

Suddenly a loud crackling of the underbrush in 
front startled them, and they paused in an attitude 
of defense for the unseen intruder. After a moment 
a man in gray, almost breathless, stumbled into view 
and gasped, “The prisoners have escaped.” 

“That can’t be true unless the guards went to 
sleep,” shouted Al in a furious rage. He had felt 
perfectly sure that the Federals were securely trapped, 
and the thought of holding them as prisoners seemed 
to soothe his fierce longing for vengeance. 

Suddenly a great flame leaped heavenward and 
lighted the whole surrounding scene. They were daz- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


205 

zled by the vivid glare as they rushed forward toward 
the house. They were breathless with horror and dis- 
may as they gazed at the flames that were now leaping 
higher and higher each moment. Upon reaching the 
front gate they stared helplessly at the flames, and 
while they paused the roof fell in, leaving everything 
in black darkness for a brief moment, and then flamed 
up again. 

“Oh, my God ; I had hoped to save him.” 

It was the cabin at the edge of the woods that was 
only a mass of smouldering embers, and David leaned 
against the gate moaning as if he were suffering the 
most intense agony of remorse. 

“Do tell me what has happened, David,” in- 
quired Al. 

“That young prisoner saved my life.” Then David’s 
voice choked and he could say no more. But he 
started up suddenly and ran toward the burning cabin. 
Awe and horror seemed to appal those standing there 
in the early dawn. Then they hurried after David, 
in silence, toward the heap of ruins. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

A STRANGE MEETING. 

Agnes and Honey scarcely breathed while they 
crouched at the end of the cave. Near the entrance 
stood Prince, sharply silhouetted against the dim 
moonlight as it gleamed at intervals through the gath- 
ering clouds. Suddenly through the dark shadows 
with a tremor of echoes came the sound of a shot; 
then a continuous flash and peal of crossfire, which 
caused the earth to tremble, thundered in the distance. 

The two girls became dizzy, and their hearts seemed 


206 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


to stop beating for a moment as they grasped each 
other’s hands and leaned heavily against the wall. At 
the same instant there was a loud crash, and the girls 
fell amidst the dust and debris as the wall where they 
stood gave way. They sprang to their feet and Agnes 
exclaimed, “Oh, Honey, are you hurt?” 

“No, I’m not hurt; are you? Where are you, 
Agnes? I wonder why it is so dark.” 

Honey caught her friend’s hand and they groped 
their way, side by side, through the dark. Each felt 
comforted with the other’s presence, but after going 
on and on, it seemed to them an endless distance, 
a palpable gloom seemed to press upon them with a 
merciless, smothering weight, and they sank down in 
dead silence with nervous fright. 

When Agnes opened her eyes she wondered where 
she was. A tiny gleam of light penetrated the gloom 
just above her, and as she roused herself it became 
clear to her that there was an opening above them 
somewhere. Suddenly she recalled vividly a story that 
Aunt Sue had told her long ago, which roused all her 
faculties. 

Sitting up quickly, she shook Honey and exclaimed, 
excitedly: “Oh, Honey, Aunt Sue told me that there 
was an underground passage leading from one of the 
cabins to the cave. It had been the rendezvous of a 
couple of thieves who carried on a regular system of 
stealing. The negroes were blamed for it, and, of 
course, punished. When it was finally discovered 
the entrance to the tunnel was closed. I suppose that 
is what gave way when we fell. I thought the walls 
of the cave were coming down on us. Come, Honey, 
let’s try and go on farther; perhaps we’ll come to 
Aunt Sue’s cabin.” 

By this time she had scrambled to her feet and, not 
receiving any reply from Honey, she bent over her and 
shook her again. “Honey, Honey ; why don’t you an- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


207 

swer me; what is the matter?” Then, realizing that 
the girl had fainted, she resolved to go on alone and 
get help at all hazards. 

She staggered on in the oppressive gloom that 
enveloped her. She went stumbling along with great 
difficulty. After a short pause to regain her breath 
she stretched out her hand to feel the way, and was 
thrilled with hope as her hand grasped a ladder and 
she heard the faintest sound of footsteps overhead, 
which banished all doubt from her mind. Here was 
Aunt Sue’s cabin, and help was assured. But when 
she tried to call out no sound came from her lips. 

Feeling faint and weak, she clung to the ladder to 
keep from falling. Suddenly the ladder seemed to 
give way, and as she felt herself going down a cry 
escaped her lips and the words, “Aunt Sue; help! 
help !” echoed along the tunnel. 

The girl lay still and silent, unable to move or 
speak ; her eyes closed and she gasped desperately 
for breath. When she opened her eyes a refreshing 
little breeze had swept away the dense atmosphere 
that had suffocated and unnerved her, and she saw, 
by the dim light of a candle, a boy in a blue uniform 
descending the ladder. 

Her hatred for that uniform swept across her sub- 
dued spirit with such force and intensity that she sank 
again into unconsciousness, but only for a moment. 
When a cool and comforting hand was laid upon her 
brow and a voice that seemed like the sound of mur- 
muring waters said, “Why, that was the same voice 
I heard when I called for help. Where did I see that 
face before ?” he said, aloud, unconsciously, as he con- 
tinued passing his hand gently over the girl’s brow. 

It was William Winston, and as he gazed at the 
face dimly visible in the flickering light cast by the 
candle which he held, the girl opened her eyes and 
William withdrew his hand suddenly and exclaimed: 


208 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


‘‘You are the little girl that I met on the ship in that 
terrible storm.” 

Agnes remained silent a moment, as if dazed. At 
last she roused herself and said in a breathless whis- 
per, “Why are you still here? My brother David 
promised to help you escape. There is no time to 
be lost. Some of the men are determined to have you 
taken to Libby.” The girl shuddered. “That would 
be worse than death. We must be very still and I will 
let you have Prince. Then you can get away.” 

“Come quickly,” she whispered, as she started up ; 
then, suddenly remembering her mission, she added, 
“Honey Stair fainted and I came for help.” 

Agnes was herself again after breathing the fresh 
air that came through the trap door that William 
had opened. There, right at his feet, had been a way 
of escape which had remained undiscovered until the 
ladder that Agnes clung to had slipped from its place 
and moved a loose board in the floor upon which 
William stood, and through the crack came the sound 
of the strangely familiar voice, calling for help. 

Shading the candle with his cap, William led the 
way and they hurried in silence along the tunnel. The 
fresh air having revived Honey, she regained con- 
sciousness, had reached the mouth of the cave, and 
stood with her hand on Prince’s bridle, hesitating 
whether to go for help or venture alone into the cave 
again in search of her friend. When two ghost-like 
forms suddenly emerged from the cave she withdrew 
quickly into the shadow, and stood there, simply petri- 
fied with fear. She tried to speak, but no sound 
escaped her lips. 

She heard a voice and realized that it was Agnes, 
and that the forms were not ghosts. Then the fear 
changed to surprise and wonder as she listened to 
the following : “Here is Prince ; take him, and fly for 
your life !” 


WILLIAM WINSTON i 


209 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

ORDERED TO HASTEN TO THE FRONT. 

Both girls stood perfectly still, listening intently 
until no sound of Prince’s hoof-beats could be heard ; 
then Honey stepped from the shadow and embraced 
Agnes as she cried, “Oh, Agnes, I’m so glad you are 
safe and that you let him go. At first I thought you 
were ghosts, and was so frightened that I couldn’t 
speak. Then, when I saw the prisoner with you, in 
his blue uniform, I thought his fate was sealed. 

“After you left this afternoon I went back to the 
old cabin and found that the prisoner was William 
Winston, the Union boy who tried to save little Shep. 
Then I tried to get Uncle Zack to release him. He 
would not do so, but gave him food and water.” 

Agnes grasped Honey’s hand as she said, in a voice 
that trembled with emotion: “I hope they will not 
recapture him. His voice seemed so familiar when 
we heard him calling for help; then it suddenly came 
to me where I had heard that voice before. It was 
that of the boy who saved me from being washed 
overboard, and that is why I rushed away to find 
David, so that he could release him, and David prom- 
ised to do so.” 

Wringing her hands, Agnes started forward as she 
said, in alarm, “I hope no one was hurt in that 
skirmish. I wonder if it could have been a party of 
Union soldiers trying to rescue William?” 

All was still and silent now, so the two girls hurried 
away to the house, and after finding something to 
eat they stole quietly upstairs to bed. 

“My, it was a lucky thing that Aunt Sue had that 


210 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


severe attack of rheumatism and kept your mother 
there doctoring her. Mrs. Ward would have had a 
searching party out after us long ago, and we would 
not have been able to help William escape. By the way, 
you have not told me how you managed to find him.” 

Then Agnes related her strange adventure. When 
Mrs. Ward finally returned from Aunt Sue’s bedside 
the two girls were peacefully sleeping. The sun was 
high in the heavens when they awoke next morning. 
They dressed quickly and hurried down stairs. Mrs. 
Ward sat by the window, and with strained eyes she 
gazed into the distance. She did not look around 
even to respond to the girls’ greetings when they en- 
tered the room. 

Agnes went toward the door as she said, “Mamma, 
I’m going to look for David.” 

Her mother then calmly announced: “Your brother 
and A1 Benton left for Petersburg hours ago. Word 
came that an attack is expected soon from the enemy, 
and all were ordered to hasten to the front.” 

Not a word was spoken by the girls, and Mrs. 
Ward rose, with a heavy sigh, and started toward the 
kitchen. “You girls had better run over and see how 
Aunt Sue is this morning, but don’t be gone long, for 
breakfast will be ready in a very short time.” 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

IN THE FIRST LINE. 

The boys in blue had been equipped with sixty 
rounds of ammunition, and while it was yet dark they 
moved forward cautiously and then lay down half 
way between the lines, where they watched eagerly 
for daylight. 

On April second, when the first glimmer of light 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


211 


was visible on the horizon, the early watchers rushed 
forward and surprised the Rebel picket line. With 
a loud cheer they swept across the enemy’s works 
and cut the Confederate army in two, thus causing a 
division of their forces. Lee rushed reinforcements 
out, but it was too late. The Union forces withstood 
their onset with rock-like firmness, and slowly but 
surely and steadily they moved onward. 

The wedge had been entered which swept the Con- 
federates out of the lines they had been holding so 
stubbornly for ten months, and made them fugitives 
before the relentless Union soldiers. The blue Yankee 
wave rolled steadily onward over the Confederate 
works that were formidable as nature and months of 
labor could make them; the high, thick banks of red 
clay, the entangling abates, the deep ditches, the shel- 
tering bomb-proofs — nothing held them back. The 
amazement was that any troops could pass such obsta- 
cles as they did in the mighty rush of that early April 
morning. 

All day the conflict raged: every inch was stub- 
bornly contested, and at dusk, when the fighting 
ceased, the Federals had only gained possession of the 
southern and eastern edges of Petersburg. The men 
in blue slept in line of battle, lying down just where 
they ceased firing, and their supper consisted of hard- 
tack from their heavy sacks. 

On the morning of the third all seemed strangely 
quiet. Jack Lloyd awoke early. He still grieved over 
William Winston’s absence, and after what seemed 
hours of waiting for the first break of dawn, he 
finally scrambled to his feet in the dark and found 
his limbs stiff and sore from lying on the hard, damp 
ground after the long and strenuous siege of the pre- 
vious day. It was certainly a vigorous beginning, 
after being housed comfortably in winter quarters for 
many months. 


212 


WILLIAM WINSTON, 


After wandering about for some time in the gray 
shadows, he was suddenly attracted by a familiar 
form. Peering through the dim gray light of the early 
morning, he rushed forward and found that it was 
really his old friend William, who sat apart with his 
head bent forward in an attitude of dejection. 

Jack grasped his friend’s hands as William rose 
slowly to his feet. Each gazed at the other for several 
seconds, too much overcome to speak ; then only the 
Words “William !” and “Jack !” broke the silence. 
When the joyous spell was broken the time, place and 
surrounding scene sank into oblivion for those two, 
while many questions were asked and answered. 

“How did you escape?” asked Jack, eagerly, still 
holding on to William, as if fearing that the boy 
would disappear and he would find it all a dream. 

William paused in his answer as he realized that 
he did not know the name of his deliverer. In his 
own mind he had been content to think of her as his 
Guardian Angel, and that was now a sacred name to 
him, so he finally said, “A young girl helped me to 
escape through an underground passage, and then let 
me have a fine black horse so that I could get away. 

“After my mad race to escape from the enemy I 
arrived at our camp to find it deserted. However, 
I soon found the Captain, and reported having been 
taken prisoner. Just then the order to charge was 
given, so, regardless of rank, I rushed forward with 
our boys in the attack. Wasn’t it magnificent? I’ve 
been thanking my lucky stars ever since that I was 
released in time to participate. 

“I was in the first line when we reached the works, 
and just as I sprang to capture a flag Preston deliber- 
ately tripped me, and then grabbed the colors him- 
self. He was carrying them off as I scrambled to my 
feet with an injured ankle as well as badly injured 
feelings.” 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


213 

“Well, I’d like to ring his gol darn neck for such 
a beastly trick,” exclaimed Jack, indignantly. “Come 
over her and sit down. I see that your ankle is 
swollen.” 

William sat on the step of a deserted house, and 
as Jack knelt down to rub his swollen foot he said, 
in a hurt tone of voice, “Do you know, I heard that 
Preston was recommended for promotion for captur- 
ing that flag, and this was his first battle in three 
years. Good luck seems to be the lot of some people, 
no matter what they do. 

“I heard that scamp was condemned for having 
jumped bounties to the extent of thirty thousand 
dollars. The Chief of the Secret Service tried to per- 
suade him to turn State’s evidence to save his own 
neck, and he scornfully refused to save himself by be- 
ing a bloodhound and betraying his fellows. And, by 
Jove, his daring independence won the admiration 
of the Chief to such an extent that he obtained a par- 
don from the President for him on condition, of 
course, that he mend his ways. 

“Perhaps it’s more humane to give the fellow a 
chance to reform, instead of adhering to the stern, 
relentless military ruling. 

“By the way, tell me, Jack, what happened to you 
when you came in search of me?” 

“Who told you that we searched for you?” 

“No one told me. I simply felt sure that you would 
try to come to my rescue.” 

“Well, you’re right. I got up a searching party, 
and just after, the old darkey who told where the bar- 
rel of sorghum as hidden told us here you were. 
When we were creeping cautiously up to release you, a 
small detachment of Rebs. surprised us, and for some 
time it looked as though we would land in Libby. 
But while two of our captors went to get the horses 
to take us to Libby we escaped. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


■214 

“When we finally arrived at our quarters all were 
ready to advance between the lines, in order to be 
ready for an early attack. I searched everywhere 
for you, hoping that the old darkey had released you 
while we were engaged with the Rebs.” 

William sat perfectly silent, with bowed head. The 
long, weary days and nights, with little food, had 
sapped his strength. There had been no thought of 
this during the long siege of the previous day, and 
now, after a night’s rest, he was limp and weak. 

At last, when the gray shadows had vanished and 
the early morning lights cast a roseate hue over all, 
Jack started abruptly, struck by the extreme pallor 
of William’s face, which was ghastly in the light of 
the early dawn. Utterly at a loss for words, he, too, 
was silent for a moment, while he wondered what he 
could do. At last he said, “Come, William, let’s get 
some breakfast. A cup of good, strong coffee will fit 
us for another day like yesterday.” 

Jack and William sat quietly drinking their coffee 
while they wandered in amused reminiscence among 
the green hills of Vermont. Suddenly all was commo- 
tion. The negroes coming in reported that the Con- 
federates had withdrawn during the night. The news 
spread with lightning rapidity through the ranks, and 
each Union soldier felt bewildered with surprise. The 
bird had flown ; the town they had so long and so 
arduously labored to capture was now deserted, and 
the Union forces immediately passed through the 
empty streets. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


215 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE RELENTLESS PURSUIT. 

Grant pursued the enemy by the south side of the 
Appomattox River. Lee hurried along toward the 
Danville Railroad, still hoping to push beyond his 
enemy to a point where he could join himself to the 
forces of Johnson. Jeff Davis and cabinet left Rich- 
mond the night of the second. The lurid flames in 
which the Confederate Capital perished were seen by 
the victorious army miles away. 

The column that passed along the road leading to 
Richmond arrived there in time to save part of the 
town from destruction by the fire that the Confeder- 
ates had started before their early flight, and the people 
were rescued from the mob of rascals let loose by the 
retirement of the troops, and who were celebrating 
their escape from the inexorable military tyranny of 
the past four years by a wild saturnalia of robbery 
and outrage. 

General Grant kept himself close to the front every 
mile of the long chase. Not a moment’s pause was 
made, even to occupy the Confederate Capital, for the 
possession of which two great armies had fought over 
four years. Every energy was bent upon overtaking 
and destroying the Confederate army. 

For days the relentless pursuit was continued by 
the Army of the Potomac, which had been molded 
into one of the most magnificent fighting machines 
that ever stood on the field of battle. Its discipline 
and organization had been raised to probably a higher 
point than even the best armies of Europe. It marched 
with celerity and certainty, and struck surely and 
quickly. Hence Lee’s fate was inevitable. 


2l6 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


On April seventh the Sixth Corps overtook the 
enemy’s rear guard at Sailor’s Run. The men in blue 
came up rapidly and deployed rapidly to the right 
and left, completely surrounding them ; but they 
fought desperately, endeavoring to check the blue 
wave that swept onward, threatening to engulf their 
whole army. 

General Gordon tried to send three different aides 
through the lines asking Lee for reinforcements, but 
each one was captured. So the little band fought 
stubbornly, determined to hold the pursuing forces 
back and give the fleeing army time to make good 
its escape. 

At seven p. m. General Gordon surrendered, and 
when he was taken through the lines the boys in 
blue greeted him with cheers. Taking off his hat 
in acknowledgment, he said, laughingly, “Well, boys, 
you have forced me back into the Union at last.” 

Early on the morning of the ninth Sheridan sent 
an aide to the Sixth Corps headquarters with the fol- 
lowing message : “I have Lee headed off from Lynch- 
burg. Make all possible haste forward and help hold 
him until the rest of the army can come up.” 

Immediately the call was responded to. They did 
not wait to eat breakfast, but went forward on the 
double-quick. After going about, five miles they drove 
in Lee’s picket line and then lay down in line of battle 
and the artillery began shelling the woods where the 
enemy was camped. 

At nine a. m. orders were passed along the line to 
cease firing. A flag of truce had been hoisted. After 
a short correspondence the chieftains met, terms were 
agreed upon, arms were stacked, and at Appomattox 
Court House, at two p. m., Lee surrendered. 

The roar and shriek of bursting shells were heard no 
more. Anger, on the one side, was swallowed up in 
gladness for the happy outcome of the war. Regrets, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


217 

on the other, disappeared in the cessation of the un- 
availing strife. 

Those heroes who had nobly resolved to do and to 
die for the eternal right as they saw it had stood the 
test in the whirlwind of the charge of battle, where 
brave men of the same mettle met and became iron, 
with nerves of steel. Ever faithful to the call of duty, 
they nobly won a glorious victory and an honorable 
discharge. Their deeds of heroism will at all times 
be an inspiration to higher thoughts, to higher moral 
standards, and to everything that goes to make our 
united country worth living for. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

AN INVITATION. 

'They have surrendered,” shouted William, joy- 
ously, as he reined in a splendid black horse and 
sprang to the ground, where he was quickly sur- 
rounded by a group of boys from his company, who 
began waving their hats, and cheer after cheer were 
given for Old Glory by these Green Mountain boys, as 
they gazed lovingly at the grand old galaxy of stars, 
again supreme and waving under the splendor of 
Southern skies. 

Jack Lloyd shouted until he was hoarse, and then, 
hugging his young favorite and pounding him on the 
back, he cried : "That was great news you brought us, 
William. How is the ankle? It was lucky you had 
that horse, so as to keep up in the long chase and be 
here to see this glorious ending. Hurrah, hurrah! 
Isn’t it great?” 

Not being able to shout any more, Jack danced 
around and continued to wave his cap in the air until 


i2l8 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


he became separated from the group. Suddenly he 
stood still, his attention being arrested by a young 
soldier in grey, who peered from behind some bushes 
at the black horse. And as William came into view 
from among the boys and led the horse to where 
Jack stood, the lad in grey became terrified and sank 
to the ground, and Jack and William rushed to his 
aid, the same as if he were a long lost brother. 

Quickly regaining consciousness, the boy opened his 
eyes and stared at William for a moment, and then 
said: “J ove > I thought you were a ghost.” 

William said nothing, but simply stared at the face 
before him, while another scene was flashed upon his 
vision. This was the same face that had haunted 
him for so long. It was the boy that he had revived 
in the wilderness. No doubt remained; he knew now 
that it was the same face that he saw through the 
small opening in the door of the cabin that had held 
him prisoner. 

It was David Ward, and he had been slightly 
wounded in the leg that morning. After having the 
wound attended to, Jack and William shared their food 
with David, and with several of his friends, who ar- 
rived on the scene in search of their missing friend. 

All around, those who had sought each other’s lives 
for years were grouped in friendly talk. The army 
bread was drawn eagerly from the knapsacks of the 
men in blue ; smoke quivered above a hundred fires, 
and the smell of frying bacon brought a wistful look 
into the guant faces. Tears stood in the eyes of many 
a man in grey as he ate the food his Yankee brothers 
gave him. 

A1 Benton stood apart from the group and remained 
silent and sullen, but the others bore their defeat 
bravely, and after telling their names and the regiment 
to which they belonged they discussed the many bat- 
tles where they had faced each other while they ate 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


2 19 

ravenously. Most of their haversacks were empty; 
only a few contained a little popcorn. 

David was himself again after having nourishment, 
and, turning to look for Al, he said : “I say, Al, do you 
know that William is the boy whom we thought was 
burned in the cabin the other night ?” 

“Oh, yes ; I recognized him, and have been wonder- 
ing how he got Prince,” was his reply, as he cast a 
sneering glance at William. 

Jack Lloyd turned quickly, and quietly said in an 
exulting tone : “It was David’s sister, Agnes, who re- 
leased William from the cabin, and then gave Prince to 
him so that he could get away.” 

Al turned pale when Agnes’ name was mentioned, 
and as he hurried away they heard him muttering: 
“Well, I reckon he surely is a lucky dog to find such a 
friend among his enemies.” 

William stood for a moment gazing at the others 
in silent surprise. Then, turning to Jack, he said: 
“Will you please tell me where you obtained your in- 
formation ?” 

“I saw Uncle Zack after I left you this morning, 
and he told me all about it,” was Jack’s reply, given 
in a tone that indicated as plainly as if he had said it, 
“So you thought you would keep her name a secret?” 
Then he too walked away to join a group of blue and 
grey-clad soldiers who sat together, and in the friend- 
liest manner were discussing the many battle scenes of 
the past. 

Only the two were left, but William stood facing 
the boy in grey as if in a dream. He was at the 
mouth of the cave, and the mental scene was so real 
that he heard a voice say : “Here is Prince ; take him 
and fly for your life.” I11 fancy she had seemed like a 
fairy princess, but now he repeated the name, Agnes 
Ward, over and over again to himself. 

At last he awoke from the day-dream when he heard 


220 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


David say, “I reckon you are not the only one who has 
found a friend on the enemy’s side. I would have 
died in the wilderness if you had not delivered that 
letter between the lines. That tall fellow found me 
by the directions that you gave him. But I would 
have bled to death before he came if you had not 
bound my wounds. So you really saved my life. The 
fates were kind to give us an opportunity to return 
in part the obligation. I’m so glad that it was my sis- 
ter who released you. 

“I had been watching for an opportunity to do so, 
but several of your captors remained close by, on 
guard all the time, and they planned to take you to 
Libby while I was away with A1 Benton, who had de- 
liberately trumped up an excuse to get me out of the 
way” 

William stood there motionless, dreaming in the 
stillness of the morning. Little golden flashes of recol- 
lection lighted the path as his thougths wandered 
along thrilling ways which led back through the past. 
The scene of his escape was where he rested in mem- 
ory, and scarcely heard what David said until after 
a pause he added, “By the way, William, I think you 
will pass my home when you return to Washington. 
I want you to come and visit me if you can.” 

“Nothing would please me better, thank you,” was 
the eager reply. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

A THUNDERBOLT FROM A CLEAR SKY. 

The Confederate soldiers signed a parole not to 
take up arms against the United States and to return 
to their homes at once. On the morning of the tenth, 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


221 


when all were ready to start on the homeward march, 
William insisted that David should take Prince. 

For several days the return march was an uninter- 
rupted, joyous, triumphant procession. But just after 
the army had bivouacked for the night at Burt Station, 
suddenly, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, came 
the news of the assassination of President Lincoln. 
This cast a deep and profound gloom upon the victor- 
ious army. 

Every heart had been full to overflowing with the 
triumph of victory for union and freedom over seces- 
sion and slavery when this terrible blast of disaster 
caused by the dastardly hand of the assassin swept 
them, like a mighty wave, to the lowest depths of 
grief and woe ; each mourned as if for a father, and 
the grey-clad soldiers expressed the deepest sympa- 
thy and regret. 

The vast army of brave heroes who had faced 
death so many times were awestricken over the mys- 
tery of why the grim reaper should, when the harvest 
seemed ended, claim one more costly sacrifice upon 
the altar of freedom. 

Jack and William stood near each other with bowed 
heads, while all around them grey-haired veterans 
seemed chained and fettered with an inertia which 
held them in their tracks. It was a time of acquies- 
cence, stupefied incredulity — a time of dull faith in 
destiny, duller resignation. After the first outburst 
of sorrow each heart in the vast assemblage seemed 
to throb in silence with a dull pain as they wondered 
if God’s will were doing; still, who dared doubt? 

“Oh, living will that shalt endure, 

When all that seems shall suffer shock, 

Rise in the spiritual rock, 

Flow through our deeds 
And make them pure.” 


222 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


This was repeated in a mournful voice by one of the 
grey-haired veterans ; then, after a pause, he con- 
tinued, “It may be that the noble deeds of Lincoln’s 
life will live on, clothed with a new power; and as he 
labored for the uplifting and betterment of humanity 
it will be an inspiration for the people of the nation 
to attain a high destiny upon the earth.” 

Then a dead silence reigned until the sublime clos- 
ing words of Lincoln’s second inaugural were repeated 
by another veteran : “ 'With malice toward none, with 
charity for all, with firmness in the right as God 
gives us to see the right, let us strive to finish the 
work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to 
care for him who shall have borne the battle and for 
his widow and children, to do all which may achieve 
and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves 
and among all nations !” 

Again all were silent. Then, as if each felt that he 
had received a special message, the men retired silently 
to their tents. 

In the morning the homeward march was continued, 
and soon these men composing the vast armies on 
either side peacefully dispersed to their homes and 
were speedily engrossed in their former occupations 
or in new pursuits. 

No act of lawlessness is on record to stain their 
proud repute as soldiers and Americans. 


CHAPTER XL VIII. 

A VISIT. 

It was early in April, and the silvery-green tassels 
on the wistaria barely showed a hint of the blue 
petals folded within ; but the maples’ leafless symmetry 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


223 

was all veined with fire. Faint perfume from nearby 
woodlands, wandering puffs of warm wind from 
meadows freshened the air; peace, good-will and 
spring were on the earth, but in men’s souls a silence 
reigned as they passed through the land that had been 
for four long years swept by the misty, monstrous, 
devastating hurricane of war. 

But, when nearing home and loved ones, the soft 
sun of spring spun a spell upon the returning way- 
farers, and the unclosing buds of April brought an 
awakening that invigorated desire and revived the 
old interest in life. Thus the wheels of progress again 
moved slowly onward in the land. 

At the Ward home near Richmond, the lilac bushes 
were in bloom and the grassy dooryard was exquisite 
with crocus bloom. Father and son were home once 
more to stay. Mrs. Ward’s face beamed as the family 
gathered on the porch, where in the twilight they 
eagerly listened to the thrilling adventures and won- 
derful escapades experienced by both father and son. 

After relating his experience in the Wilderness, 
David added, “By the way, mother, the boy who 
saved me will probably reach here this evening or 
to-morrow.” 

“I shall be very glad to welcome such a friend, 
my dear, even though he is a Yankee,” said Mrs. 
Ward, smiling indulgently as she turned to look at 
her husband, who sat beside her. 

He acquiesced by saying, “Yes, indeed; I reckon 
that a favor from one on the other side should be 
doubly appreciated.” 

David arose and strolled across to the end of the 
porch, where Honey Stair and his sister Agnes stood 
with arms linked, and the parents’ eyes followed lov- 
ingly, and each breathed a prayer of heartfelt thanks 
for the safe return of their tall son, who but yester- 
day was a boy. 


224 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


“Oh, David, I forgot to tell you; A1 Benton said 
that a crowd of your friends are coming out from 
town this evening,” said Agnes softly. “I wonder if 
we could have an impromptu dance. It would be 
a welcome home party for you and a farewell party 
for Honey.” 

“Do you really have to go to-morrow ?” asked 
David, turning toward Honey. 

At that moment the sound of many voices reached 
them and they saw in the dim light that the walk 
leading up from the driveway blossomed with the light 
spring gowns of a group of young girls, pale, dainty 
clusters in the dark, set with darker figures where 
sparks from cigars glowed in the darkness. 

The two girls rushed to meet their friends, and 
David followed, but paused near his parents, his at- 
tention being arrested by a lone traveler who at that 
moment was turning from the turnpike toward the 
front gate. 

David bent forward and spoke in low, excited tones : 
“Father, I think that is William Winston at the gate, 
and there is A1 Benton coming up the driveway, and 
he simply hates young Winston.” 

Before a reply could be made, David rushed down 
the walk and grasped both his friend’s hands. Colonel 
and Mrs. Ward arose, and their greeting was equally 
cordial. At the same moment the group of girls and 
boys, bubbling over with vivaciousness, came up on 
the veranda, where all were graciously welcomed and 
presented to young Winston. 

For a time all was confusion, until Uncle Zack ar- 
rived with his fiddle and consented to play for a 
dance. Only one in the merry group of dancers held 
William’s attention. But she had promised many num- 
bers before he summoned the courage to ask for a 
dance. 

At last it was the valse promised him by Agnes. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


22 5 

Through the fixed unreality of things he saw her 
clearly, standing, waiting for him — saw her sensitive 
face as she quietly laid her hand on his ; saw it sud- 
denly alter as the light contact startled both. 

Flushed, Agnes looked up at William like a hurt 
child, conscious yet only of the surprise. Neither 
spoke. He took her hand ; his arm encircled her, both 
seemed aware of that ; then only of the swaying 
rhythm of the dance and of joined hands and her 
waist imprisoned — and of unknown forces like tides 
surging, sweeping them as they drifted through music 
and light and space into a pulseless void. 

Around William now, even the vague, the unreal, 
melted into blankness ; only the fragrance of her hair 
seemed real, and the long lashes resting on curved 
cheeks and the youth of her yielding in his embrace. 

Neither spoke when it had ended. She turned aside 
and stood motionless, one hand resting on the stair 
rail as though to steady herself. Her small head 
was lowered. 

He managed to say, “You will give me the next?” 

“No.” 

“Then the next?” 

“No,” she said, not moving. 

A1 Benton came up, perfectly sure of her, but she 
shook her head, and shook her head to all, and young 
Winston remained beside her. At last her reluctant 
head turned slowly, and her gaze searched his. 

“Shall we rest?” he said. 

“Yes ; I am tired.” 

Sitting upon the stairs, she settled there in silence; 
he, at her feet, turned sideways so that he could look 
up into the brooding, absent eyes. 

And over them again, over the small space just 
then allotted them in the world, was settling once more 
the intangible,, indefinable spell awakened by their light 
contact in the swaying rhythm of the dance. Through 


226 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


the silence hurried their pulse ; through its significance 
her dazed young eyes looked out into a haze where 
nothing stirred except a phantom heart beating the 
reveille. And the spell lay heavy on them both. 

“I know you will think there is no reason in what 
I say; still it is the truth. I have heard your voice 
many times since we plunged hand in hand through 
that terrible wave and barely escaped going down 
into the sea of eternity. Since then you have seemed 
an inherent part of my life, and I am destined never 
to forget you. I shall bear your image always — you 
know it.” 

She made no sign. 

“Agnes Ward,” he said mechanically, and then she 
looked down at him as he continued, “Many times 
when in terrible danger the whole scene of that storm 
has been flashed before my vision. It was so real 
that I could feel your hand in mine and hear your 
voice, so distinctly, saying: ‘I feel that I will be 
able to help you some time/ You did help me. It 
was the memory of this that gave me courage to go 
on as duty called, instead of turning the wrong way, 
as I often felt like doing.” 

Agnes leaned forward, and awe was in her eyes as 
she whispered, “Do you know, I have often dreamed 
of you in terrible danger in war, but I could see you 
distinctly in a blue uniform. Those dreams used to 
linger with me half the day. Oh! I hated the men 
in blue terribly. But I prayed for your safety be- 
cause — because — well, you saved my life, you know.” 

“You did far more than save my life. You saved 
my honor. I had been reported a deserter, and if I 
had died in that cabin my name would have been dis- 
honored. It was you who made it possible for me to 
go home and to obtain an honorable discharge from 
the grand old state of Vermont.” 

A1 Benton came up at that moment. It was the last 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


227 

dance, and Agnes had promised it to him. As Al’s 
arm encircled her and they whirled away among the 
merry throng, Agnes caught a glimpse of William, 
still sitting where she left him, his pallid face between 
his hands, his eyes fixed on space. 

After a long while William quietly withdrew and 
went out into the dark, where he remained alone till all 
was quiet and he felt sure that the guests had de- 
parted. Then he slowly retraced his steps. As he 
approached the veranda the sound of voices reached 
him, and as he turned to go in the opposite direction 
he heard A1 Benton say : 

“You know I have always loved you, Agnes, and 
you promised to give me an answer as soon as the 
war was over. ,, 

“William’s heart almost stopped beating for a mo- 
ment, as if he had been struck a deadly blow ; then he 
staggered away blindly, he knew not where. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

SHE FOUND HER. 

It was late when Honey and Agnes arose. They 
dressed quickly and hurried away for one more walk 
in the woods before Honey’s departure. 

“William left early this morning,” called out David, 
as he rode past them on Prince, while they stood wait- 
ing for Uncle Zack to bring the lunch that Aunt Sue 
had promised to fix for them to eat on the way. 

Both were so surprised that they simply gazed at 
each other in silence until Uncle Zack came with the 
lunch. Then, as they went on and reached the path 
that plunged into the woodland, Honey finally said: 
“I thought David said that William was going to 


22 & 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


stay a week.” But Agnes seemed not to hear, and 
they went on, each busy with her own thoughts. 

It was almost noon; the sun had gone partly under 
a cloud, with no hint of rain, but with just that soft 
shading of brilliancy that holds an exquisite peaceful- 
ness in it; the wind that rustled and swept through 
the woods had all the upland moving sweetness of 
June in it. 

After a while the surprised silence was broken, and 
then the girls had talked; oh, how they had talked, 
with the eagerness of two who find endless possibili- 
ties in converse. Agnes was writing a story of the 
war, and now, for the first time, revealed this to 
Honey. Then each told of hopes and desires, and even 
touched on the very inner springs of life, while the 
other listened with aiding interest and those right 
words of sympathy and comprehension that make one 
of the deepest pleasures that can be experienced. 

The two girls felt languid after a hurried walk to 
get home in time for dinner and to finish Honey’s 
packing, in order to drive into Richmond in time to 
catch the afternoon train. 

At last everything was ready and Agnes sighed as 
she went to the window where Honey stood gazing 
at a cloud of dust that was approaching along the 
turnpike. 

“Do you think you will really like teaching?” in- 
quired Agnes. 

“Oh, I’m sure I shall love it,” replied Honey, very 
enthusiastically, as she leaned out of the window, so 
that she could see what caused such a heavy, dark 
cloud of dust. Far as the eye could see down toward 
Richmond it was dust, dust, dust. 

“We had such a nice party, didn’t we, Agnes?” she 
said, leaning a little farther out of the window. 

“I had such a good time,” responded Agnes, look- 
ing radiant. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 229 

“So did I. David is such a divine dancer. Isn’t 
Evelyn Benton pretty?” 

“She is growing up to be very beautiful. David 
paid her a great deal of attention. Did you notice 
it?” 

“Really? I didn’t notice it,” replied Honey, with- 
out enthusiasm. “But,” she added, “I did notice you 
and William Winston on the stairs. It didn’t take you 
long, did it?” 

Agnes’ color rose a trifle. “We exchanged scarcely 
two dozen words,” she observed sedately. 

“It didn’t take you long,” Honey repeated, “either 
of you. It was the swiftest case of fascination that 
I ever saw. Why he didn’t dance with anyone but 
you, and he scarcely noticed anyone else.” 

“Dear, please don’t say such things ; it is too ridicu- 
lous to be funny,” Agnes began, patiently. “There 
were scarcely two dozen words spoken.” 

Honey, delighted, shook her head and laughed. “Oh, 
you pretty minx! You and your two dozen words! 
Your looks spoke volumes.” 

“You certainly are absurd, Honey, or perhaps you 
forget that I have known him over three years.” 

“Yes, that is true. But you surely have changed. 
Do you remember how you used to run and hide 
when the men in blue came to our home at Occo- 
quan ; and you were simply furious because I even 
spoke to a Yankee? 

“How the time flies! We planned so many wonder- 
ful things together. Do you remember those plays 
we wrote and acted every day for weeks, and we 
seemed to live in a world apart? Your dream to be 
an author is now realized, and you are only seven- 
teen. 

“William Winston is seventeen, too. Don’t you 
think he is simply fascinating in the uniform of a 
Lieutenant, even if it is a blue uniform? I think 


230 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


he is the most romantic-looking creature I ever saw. 
However,” she added, folding her slender hands in 
resignation, “he seems accustomed to being adored.” 

Agnes remained silent for a moment, then look- 
ing up she asked carelessly, “Do you really think 
so?” 

“Oh, look! look! Agnes, look!” exclaimed Honey, 
suddenly, as she turned toward the window again. 

The Federal troops were passing, and the two girls 
stood back a little way from the window so as not to 
be seen. After gazing a long time in silence, and 
listening to the patter of many thousands of foot- 
falls, they saw Colonel and Mrs. Ward go down the 
driveway to the front entrance, and while they stood 
there, for a moment, a young man in blue stopped, 
saluted, shook hands, and then went on. 

Agnes turned pale and leaned against a chair when 
she saw him turn and join the moving throng. 

Honey involuntarily went to the window as she 
said, “Why, that was William. I wonder why he 
did not wait to join his command here, instead of 
leaving so early, without even saying good-bye to 
us?” 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, but it was 
only Uncle Zack, who had come for Honey’s trunk, 
and at the same moment David came into view on the 
driveway with the carriage. 

The girls hurried down stairs and, after Honey 
had bade farewell to all, Agnes held her friend in an 
affectionate embrace as she said, with a sob, “Every- 
one is going the same day.” 

“Oh, you will not be so lonesome now, dear, since 
so many of your friends have returned home. Evelyn 
Benton said that she and A1 were going to bring some 
friends over to-morrow,” said Honey, as she turned 
to get into the carriage. David assisted her and then 
climbed into the seat beside her. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


231 

“Oh, by the way, Agnes/ 5 he said laughing, “I saw 
A1 Benton this morning and he was delighted to 
hear that your Yankee friend had to leave so early. 55 

Uncle Zack started the horses before Agnes could 
reply, so she stood waving her handkerchief until the 
carriage and its occupants were obscured from her 
view in the enveloping cloud of dust as they passed 
by the column of Federal soldiers. Then she turned 
away with a sigh and started for the house. 

But several hours later, when Aunt Sue went to 
call her young mistress for supper, she found her 
near the cave, with her face buried in her hands. She 
was seated on a fallen log near the identical spot 
where only a short time before she had said to Will- 
iam Winston, “Here is Prince. Take him and fly for 
your life. 55 

When she was roused from her reverie by Aunt 
Sue's summons to supper she rose and, quickly brush- 
ing away the telltale tears from her cheeks, started 
slowly toward the house, as she called out quietly, “I’m 
coming, Aunt Sue. 55 But as she spoke the sob in her 
throat almost choked her. 


CHAPTER L. 

IN THE ROCKIES. 

It was a day of showers and breaking clouds — of 
sudden sunlight and broad clefts of blue ; a day when 
shreds of mist are lightly looped and meshed about 
the higher peaks of the Rockies, dividing the forest 
world below from the ice world above. 

Jack Lloyd stood on the edge of an Alpine meadow, 
where William Winston had promised to meet him. 
At last, after a number of years, these two friends 
were to spend a day sightseeing in the Rockies, as 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


232 

they had often planned to do. The years in school 
had passed too quickly ; then each went his way. But 
after a year’s travel they were delighted to find that 
they were neighbors. One was a ranch foreman in 
New Mexico and the other foreman of a mine in 
Colorado. 

It was only a few moments that Jack waited, and 
he smiled as he thought of the kindness of the fates 
in bringing his friend so near. Suddenly the clear 
notes of a cheery whistle were heard just above him ; 
then William came into view, and the two friends met 
and held each other’s hands in a grip that hurt. 

“I swan, this makes life worth living to find you 
here so near. You can see the*valley where our ranch 
is from here. It is only about twenty miles away.” 

“That’s great! I can drop down from my eyry 
most any time.” 

Then, leaning affectionately on each other’s shoul- 
ders, the two friends gazed in silence at the wonderful 
surrounding scene. Below them on one side was a 
dense forest. Beyond was a tossed wilderness of 
peaks. Light masses of clouds were rushing over the 
sky and driving waves of blue and purple color across 
the mountain masses and forest slopes. 

Long, mystical, fancy-bearing moments, and tens of 
moments, passed and something of awe came upon 
the two as the clouds lowered and a sudden darkness 
closed with terrifying blackness. Then, through the 
dim gray shadows pulsed a red, gold stream of light 
that ran its long, uneven streamers across the face of 
the grim, wall-like peaks, transfiguring them into ra- 
diant shapes with a deepening crimson glow ; then 
suddenly in that effulgence of glory they saw what 
seemed to be a vast lake below, where billowy waves 
tossed and gleamed around myriads of islands. 

“I didn’t realize that we were high enough to be 
above the clouds,” exclaimed Jack. 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


233 


“Yes,” said William. “We’re above the clouds. 
Isn’t it wonderful?” Each gazed in silence at the 
billowy expanse of water and the towering mountain 
peaks that looked like small islands in a storm-tossed 
sea. At times, plainly visible for only a moment, 
then suddenly all vanish and fade into nothingness 
like a dream. “I didn’t see anything to equal this in 
the Alps.” 

“It seems like a world within a world. Surely the 
gods live here,” said Jack, beaten down by the silence 
and the appalling sweep of the cloud-shadows. “This 
is no place for men.” 

Then, rubbing his eyes to ‘be sure that he was not 
dreaming, Jack started upward as he said, “Come, 
William, if we stay here much longer we will not 
reach our destination before dark. How much higher 
up is your mine, anyway ?” 

“It isn’t my mine. I wish it were. I’m only the 
foreman, or ‘captain,’ as they call it here. The alti- 
tude of the mines is 13,534 feet, and we are only about 
half way there. 

“When I came up here the company was $250,000 
in debt; they were not on the main lead. We found 
it in a very short time and paid off the debt, and 
now they have $250,000 in the treasury.” 

They went up, and still higher, in silence, until 
at last Jack threw himself down to recover his 
breath. After resting some time they still were too 
tired to talk, but each gazed in wonder at a beautiful 
wild flower garden nestling in the sheltered and sunny 
nooks. 

Scarlet and blue, purple and pearl and opal, rose- 
pink and lavender, gray — the flowers ran about them 
as though Persephone herself had risen from the 
shadow of the nameless lake of misty vapor and 
this fairyland had broken into brilliant, flaming color 
at her feet. To see such a variety of flowers up so 


234 WILLIAM WINSTON 

high, on the steep mountain side, was simply bewilder- 
ing. 

William threw himself down among them. Fra- 
grance, color, warmth ; the stir of an endless self- 
sufficient life; the fruitfulness and bounty of the 
earth — these things wove their ancient spell upon them, 
and every little rush of the breeze seemed a caress 
and an invitation to remain here where man had not 
written his will on the country, but nature stood pre- 
eminently first. The mountains and stream breathed 
a mighty and awe-inspiring voice, which spoke to 
them from the great spectacle of the work of the 
Infinite. 

These were the real hills, the true hills ; above them, 
still enormously above them, earth towered away 
toward the snow line, where from east to west across 
hundreds of miles ruled, as with a ruler, the last of 
the bold, hardy trees stopped ; above that, in massive, 
tower-like peaks, the rocks reared their heads heaven- 
ward. Above these, again, changeless since the 
world’s beginning, but changing to every mood of 
the sun and cloud, lay out the eternal snow : ever 
white, ethereal — a valhalla of the gods of this vast 
land, where one might guess them still thronged ma- 
jestic and inviolate. 

After a long pause, in which they felt the spell 
that never fails to enthrall, the two friends arose 
slowly and in silence started up the wind-swept trail. 
After a long climb they found themselves at last 
within a short distance of the mine, and as they 
sat down to rest Jack said: ‘‘William, tell me about 
your trip on the Continent ; also how you chanced to 
come out here.” 

“I suppose you heard that the Maples was sold 
after my mother died?” 

“Oh, yes, I heard that.” 

“After that Nell and Fred insisted that I should 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


235 

make my home with them. While we were traveling 
on the Continent we met Major Stubbs, who is the 
principal owner of this mine. A warm friendship 
sprang up between us, the principal bond of sympa- 
thy being the fact that we had both served in the 
Army of the Potomac during the war. The upshot 
was that he offered me this position, and, of course, 
I was delighted to accept. 

“The truth of the matter, I was pining for my na- 
tive land. Besides, here was an opportunity for my 
dreams to be realized. You remember how we planned 
in the war to come and shoot big game in the 
Rockies ?” 

“Indeed; I should say I do remember. We first 
planned the trip the night before poor Henry was 
killed. After that I thought of it so much that I 
often dreamed of being here, and when my uncle, 
who owns the big ranch just across the line in New 
Mexico, sent for me I left on the first train for the 
West. 

“On my way out I had to stay a day in Richmond. 
The scenes recalled vividly old memories. I never 
shall forget how proud I felt on the day that our 
victorious army passed through Richmond on the re- 
turn march to Washington. It stirred depths in my 
very soul as in fancy I heard again the quick rhythm 
of the fifes and drums. The tears sprang to my eyes 
when I saw every silver star in place among the 
folds of Old Glory as it fluttered from the dome of 
the Court House, where another flag had waved for 
so long. 

“Do you remember where we met you that day 
after your return from visiting David Ward?” 

“Yes, I remember it distinctly,” replied William. 
“It was where the Governor of Libby Prison was 
chained to the floor. At first I felt sorry for him, 
but after hearing how he had ordered that the prison- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


236 

ers be shot merely for approaching the windows for 
air the spectacle did not enlist my sympathy.’’ 

“By the way, William, I often wondered why you 
looked so terribly gloomy and downcast that day after 
your visit at the Wards. Pardon me if I intrude, but 
someway you never seemed quite the same again.” 

“I never could bring myself to speak of the matter 
to anyone,” said William in a subdued tone. Then, 
after a pause, he continued : “The night I visited 
the Wards I was suddenly bereft of all that had 
animated soul and body with a desire to live. It was 
the old, old story ; for some it unfolds all the sweetest 
joys of life — and others — ah, well, that night the fates 
were against me. I heard A1 Benton propose to 
Agnes Ward. I was a forced listener to what was 
said. I turned away, dazed and bewildered, and for 
years it seemed that I could never feel a sensation of 
joy again.” 

“What a stupid brute I am, anyway,” said Jack, 
penitently, as they both arose. 

At that moment they saw Sambo, who was cook at 
the mine, come hurrying down the steep incline wav- 
ing a letter. 

“Why, I swan, it seems like old times to see Sambo 
bringing your mail,” said Jack, in a surprised tone. 

Just then Sambo stumbled, being excited over see- 
ing Jack, and he rolled over and over down the 
trail, and just as he reached the edge of the precipice 
William grabbed him. As the darkey scrambled to 
his feet his eyes bulged out with fright. He handed 
the letter to William, meanwhile turning to Jack: 
“Lawdy, lawdy, Massah Jack, Ah jes thought you all 
was a suah nuf ghost, an’ it mos’ scared me into 
Kingdom Come.” 

As he retraced his steps up the narrow trail Sambo 
was very careful. 

“Jove! I thought nothing could save poor Sambo 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


22>7 


when he rolled to the edge of the precipice/’ ex- 
claimed Jack. 

“I just caught him in time, didn’t I? Still, he 
might not have been hurt. We often have a burro 
with his pack on get off the trail and go sliding down 
the mountain side, and you would think that the 
animal would be crushed into bits like the ore in his 
pack. A number of the men have taken a sudden 
and unexpected slide down a few thousand feet after 
a fresh snowfall. So far, they have returned un- 
injured, except that they usually required a new outfit 
of clothing.” 

“Well, excuse me, please,” said Jack; “I should 
rather not indulge in such exciting experiences, even 
though the scenery is the grandest on earth.” 

At that moment a group of men from the mine met 
Jack and William at the cabin door. All were ex- 
cited over the news that an avalanche had blocked 
the canyon through which the provisions were brought 
to the mine. 

“Don’t be alarmed, boys; we just got in a large 
supply of provisions,” remarked William reassuringly. 

After showing Jack into his own small quarters, 
William hurried away to give orders to the men, 
and then he sought a quiet place to read his letter. 

An hour later Jack found him sitting on the edge 
of a great boulder, his head bent over the letter, which 
he had re-read many times. The light of the setting 
sun cast a brilliant glow of varied colors on the 
surrounding scene, and it shone in William’s eyes as 
he rose, buoyant with expectation, mellowed by the 
glow of assured happiness. 

Grasping his friend’s hands, he said: “Will you 
be best man, Jack? Agnes has set the day for our 
wedding.” 

Jack was so surprised that for a moment he looked 
bewildered as he wondered if William was romanc- 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


238 

ing. Then he said, “I certainly will, old man. It 
would be the greatest joy in life to me, excepting, 
of course, when I am one of the star actors in a 
ceremony of that kind.” 

Seeing Jack’s look of incredulity, William said: 
“You. surely did not receive my letter in which I told 
you of meeting Agnes Ward on the steamer when 
I returned from abroad. I also told you that David 
Ward and Honey Stair were married, and that A1 
Benton was engaged to Myra Ring, the little singer. 
She has won fame as an opera singer. I intended 
speaking of this when Sambo interrupted us a while 
ago.” 

A few days passed quickly. The canyon was cleared 
of the obstruction and William secured a leave of 
absence, and in company with his friend Jack was 
on his way East. When slowly descending the San 
Juan Canyon, William was feasting his eyes once 
more on the great savage landscape, on the peaks and 
valleys that seemed to him had never till now known 
man. 

But at one side could be seen a great aqueduct 
that had been built by the Cliff-Dwellers. Far above 
them in the mountain side, hewn in solid granite, 
were the abodes of this past historic race. Only a 
narrow little bench in front indicated the approach to 
the dwelling-place of these people who in past ages 
had labored and sheltered, blending their life, their 
births and deaths, their loves and hates, with these 
rugged mountains and the forests; wresting their 
food from the valleys, then creeping height over 
height to the almost inaccessible snow line for pro- 
tection from relentless foes, thereby writing their will 
on the country, which for all time will remain inter- 
fused and interwoven with human fate. 

Jack and William climbed up the steep mountain 
side and entered the abode of a cliff-dweller. The 


WILLIAM WINSTON 


239 

walls were plastered, showing the fingermarks of very 
small hands ; evidently the work had been done by 
women and children. There were many pieces of 
pottery there in place, as if the owner had gone but 
yesterday and would return the next day. 

Where the dead bodies had been buried many were 
perfectly preserved and resting peacefully. Still, it 
was the mute evidence of a past and forgotten race 
that had contrived to make their purpose prevail 
over the physical forces of this wild world. 

The two wayfarers hurried on their way, impressed 
with the unexpected sight they had just seen. Secretly, 
William’s thoughts clung to the letter in his inside 
pocket, and after going some distance he re-read a 
certain passage in it, just as he had done many times 
each day since he received it. 

“Try as I may, I cannot fix my thoughts on what 
I am about: on the pretty garments piled around me, 
on the necessary arrangements to be made for the 
future — our future. Honey is here, and she is very 
busy helping mother to get everything ready. 

“All that my mind seems able to contain is my love 
for you, the knowledge that you are coming. Now 
that the time for our wedding is approaching, I often 
find my mother silently weeping. 

“But oh, William, my adored one, all I am capable 
of understanding is that I love you, and that all the 
world stands still waiting for you as I wait; and 
that without you nothing is real.” 


THE END. 


NOV 26 1913 


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